


Echtra Jurassic

by EliseCollier



Category: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Clawen, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Ireland, O’Malley Saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliseCollier/pseuds/EliseCollier
Summary: Claire and Owen fight against arranged marriages, kidnappings and more in an AUJurassic Worldstory set in 16th century Ireland. Featuring Wu, Lowery, Zach, Gray, Hoskins and more. Rated T/M for themes and eventual Clawen smut. Angst will largely derive from the dramatic scenario itself.





	1. Mag Mell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year ago, I mused that another author's AU Owen reminded me of Adam DeMarisco. So, I hatched an eventual plan to mash-up _Jurassic World_ with the historical fiction O'Malley Saga. When I started writing it down, I didn't know if I'd ever share it with anyone. The dramatic set-up and a few scenes in subsequent chapters are directly lifted from the first section of _Skye O'Malley (Book 1)_ , but I formed everything into a Clawen/Jurassic shape. To maintain a measure of respect for Irish history, I didn't change every name and place. I veered away from some - but not all - of the disquieting elements of _Skye O'Malley_. Knowledge of the O'Malley Saga is not necessary for enjoyment of this work, and I give credit to Bertrice Small for her creations and inspiration. Story and chapter titles invoke Irish mythology.
> 
> I was going to wait until I was done with the entire fic before starting to post, but I got really distracted by _Fallen Kingdom_ news and needed more motivation/pressure to write.

Masrannessey Island, 1555

Owen Grady gazed upon the port in Dearing Bay with mixed emotions. He wasn't returning home to Ireland entirely of his own accord. He dreaded disembarking from the _Deep Blue Sea_ , but only in part because his family commissioned the excellent trading vessel. As they neared the dock, he saw one of its sister ships, _Charlotte_ , over the starboard side. Someone was walking the deck with an authoritative presence. On closer inspection, Owen realized that it was a woman. She looked pensive while checking riggings, pulling one tight enough to lean her body over the water. Her beauty was undeniable. Her taut buttocks accentuated by her riding pants. He was captivated but confused. Women were considered bad luck on ships, and Simon Dearing hadn't mentioned women in his employ during the week that Owen was his passenger. Surely this couldn't be the old man's daughter, Claire? She would be preparing for her wedding, not busying herself at port.

After Owen hitched a ride on the _Deep Blue Sea_ in Calais, Simon waxed rhapsodic about his soon-to-be-married, youngest daughter. He spoke wistfully about her literally cutting her teeth on his ships' wheels. The proud father took her to sea shortly after her birth. He taught her to sail and command his fleet. He told Owen that he would've groomed her as the formal heir to his trading empire if his second wife hadn't given him two sons. Simon forced Claire to learn the womanly arts and how to run a household - at which she was equally as good as she was sailing. He gleefully related that she could do anything. When he mused that her husband was a lucky man because she might also be the fairest in all of Ireland, Owen thought Simon was speaking in hyperbole. Sentimental about the wedding and his last daughter leaving home.

Owen was also soon to be married but completely unsentimental about it. The match had been arranged by his father, Victor, and Owen had never met his bride-to-be. Upon finishing his naval service, he chose to galavant about Europe - much to his father's chagrin - before settling down. Owen enjoyed his freedom, bound to no one and no place. He understood from Simon that Claire, too, resisted settling down. Simon had indulged her as his favorite, as Victor had with Owen. He referred to his daughter as a spitfire and struggled to deny her whatever she desired. Now, it was finally time for both wayward offspring to marry. Pressure from the household of Claire's bridegroom had tipped the scales toward the wedding. The aging and infirm patriarch of that family wanted a legitimate grandson. Owen rolled his eyes at his own father's want of the same. He felt a kinship to Claire even though they'd never met.

He continued to watch the pretty lass in silent wonder as his ship came to a halt beside hers. Then, Owen unhitched a rope to swing himself onto her deck. He landed with a booming thud - a worthy entrance for a man of his size and vigor - and her head turned immediately. Owen licked his lips in delight. He planned to fully sweep her off her feet, as was customary for him. He wasn't known as Captain Marauder just for his military escapades. It had been a few weeks since he'd lain with a woman, so he imagined he could spend a few days with this one. Up close, she was breathtaking: emerald eyes, porcelain skin, the pinkest of lips, and flaming red hair. Very nearly the definition of Irish beauty. She seemed almost mythological, a fairy of Mag Mell left on a doorstep by the little people as a babe.

Claire was instantly suspicious and unimpressed by the arrogant sailor who disrupted her reverie. She was trying to enjoy some peace and quiet before returning to the cacophony of Dearing castle. She stomped over to him and barked, "Who do you think you are, crashing onto my vessel, pillager?"

"You wound me, my lady," Owen smirked and clutched his chest with feigned offense. He thought "wench" was a more apt title to match her attire and attitude, but he was trying to woo her. She merely rolled her eyes, seemingly unaffected by his abundant charms.

She snickered, "If you're that easily wounded, you must not be much of a man." Owen laughed. He was further captivated by her spirit. He looked forward to breaking it and making her moan. His response caught Claire off-guard, but she was happy that he wasn't incensed by her saucy remark. Her betrothed, Lowery, would've threatened to beat her for saying such a thing to him, especially because there would be truth to it. She was feeling emboldened in her element on the ship. Claire pointedly looked the stranger up and down. It was clear that he didn't know who she was. He had the strong build and deep tan of most sailors she'd known. She squinted in the daylight and could barely make out his face beneath the beard, but the gleam in his hazel eyes and white teeth blazed almost as brightly as the sun. One side of her mouth curled up in satisfaction.

Simon's shouting interrupted their moment. "Leave my daughter alone!" he cried in a teasing tone. "She's feisty and liable to bite." Claire glowered at her father, and he shook his head. "What're you doing away from the castle?" Simon chastised her. "You should be keeping your step-mother and siblings company before shipping off with yer husband." Claire crossed her arms and postured. Simon changed his tactic. His tone lightened. "Besides, you need to prepare for your wedding guests, poppet."

She ignored the pet name and answered haughtily, "I needed to mentally prepare myself and preferred the company of _Charlotte_." Owen stood stunned next to her throughout this heated exchange. He could scarcely believe that she was Simon's much-heralded daughter. This was a real woman and, quite rightly, could compete for being the fairest in the land. He was staggered, however, by more than her physical form. He marveled at her gumption as well as her comfort on the ship. _Charlotte_ had also been commissioned by his father and named for his own mother, God rest her soul.

Claire and Simon continued to bicker about her clothes and hair. Owen took the opportunity to further appraise her body. The loose-fitting, white sailor's shirt, billowing softly in the gentle winds, didn't leave much to the imagination. The sea spray-loosened strands of hair escaping her messy braid begged for his fingers to smoothen. Although he was increasingly aware of his arousal, his enticing thoughts were not exclusively carnal. Owen began to imagine having Claire as his wife. He never previously wanted to marry. These were crazy thoughts. He tried to push them away but failed while she stood within his grasp. The sea journey must've affected him more than usual. He was surely ill.

Claire eventually turned her attention to the man staring at her, unmoving and not speaking. "Are you dumb, sailor?" she snapped. Owen blinked rapidly and was shaken out of his musings.

"Hold yer tongue, wicked thing," Simon hissed at her. "'Tis the MacWilliam heir to whom you speak."

Her eyes popped wide, and she stuttered, "Lord Owen Grady?" She stepped back to reassess him but did not curtsey. Captain Marauder, in the flesh, she mused. This was a famous man, the secret dream lover of half the maidens in Ireland. His feats of bravery at sea were practically legend and heralded by just as many - if not more - of the country's men. Even though his father, the MacWilliam of Connaught, commissioned the four finest ships in their fleet, Claire had never met any member of that family face-to-face. She grimaced and shrugged her shoulders. He wasn't what she expected, but she surmised that he was still likely to be a typical nobleman. She wasn't a typical maiden and refused to swoon at his attentions. Furthermore, what point was there in searching deeper? Even if intrigued by him, she was to be married in three days. Claire tried to tuck away her feminine curiosity but couldn't help biting her lip as the enthralling man smiled down at her. His expression was quite different from the revoltingly lascivious ones she was accustomed to seeing plastered across her bridegroom's face.

The three of them rode together back to Dearing castle. Simon chastised Claire for riding astride, and she argued back. Owen found himself silent and entranced again. It reached a point of embarrassment. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He was always so quick-witted. Claire had truly rendered him dumb. It must be due to his imminent marriage, he decided. This was a manifestation of cold feet. Jitters about the unknown O'Donnell daughter to whom he'd been contracted.

Claire shook him from his thoughts once more and offered to race him to their stables. "You have me at a disadvantage," he jabbed, regaining his confidence. "You surely know all the shortcuts."

"I wouldn't need to use them," she balked. "You've never visited our island." She grinned wickedly. "As the barony of your own vassal, shouldn't you be more familiar with Masrannessey?" It was a rhetorical question. She reveled in mocking him. His reputation and her father's warnings only served to spur her on. Claire tilted her nose in the air as she continued, "It's despicable. Lofty, distant overlords who want quarterly tribute but don't give a whit for the estates or the people who manage them."

"Claire, stop," Simon commanded irately. He appeared close to losing his temper or taking a hand to her. Owen felt his body bracing to defend her against her father, even though it should have been the other way around.

She flashed Owen a quizzical look before countering arrogantly, "Maybe I should prefer the hands-off approach by the MacWilliam and look forward to running the Cruthers estate on my own without interference." As she turned her focus back to the road ahead, Owen seethed. He assumed that her remark indicated a contentment with the match. His blood boiled with a double-dose of jealousy. Envious that she was happy with her fate and that the Cruthers man would marry her.

"Why don't you ride ahead?" Owen spat bitterly. "You're obviously anxious to get back to your betrothed."

"Hardly," she scoffed. "But I wouldn't mind a brisker pace compared to you geezers, lolly-gaggin' about the countryside." She knew that Lord Grady was only ten years older than her seventeen but she enjoyed giving him a ribbing. She did want to race him. To see what he had in him on a horse, not a ship.

"Go on then, Claire," Simon chided. "Get out of those scandalous clothes and put on something more suited to yer position. Maybe fewer people will see you bringing shame to me astride." She laughed, gorgeous and full-bodied.

"Da, I never bring shame to you. It's why I agreed to wed." Her jovial mood abruptly shifted. Before disappearing down the road on her black stallion, she glared at her father with an anger that surpassed Owen's flaring temper.

Simon sighed heavily, "I've been too soft on her for years. Now, when she's finally doing her duty, she continues to give me that sharp tongue." Owen could see the regret and sadness on the older man's face. It effectively cooled his rage.

"You'll miss her in the house...and the ships," said Owen, sympathetically.

"Aye, she's wasted on the Cruthers clan. They don't deserve her. But it's a better match than I could get for her plain, older sisters." He sighed again. "I wish I had the name and the fortune to assure her a nobler husband than young Cruthers." Just as he didn't know much about the Dearing family, Owen knew little of the Cruthers. He was shamed, being the MacWilliam's heir and so ignorant of his people. It felt worse that Claire, specifically, called him out on the truth. He had an inexplicable drive to impress her, more than he'd felt with any woman in his past. He had planned to stay at their castle the next few days as his father's representative at the wedding. It was ordered by Victor in the last message Owen received from him in Paris. At first, Owen was annoyed but then enjoyed Simon's company on the ship and looked forward to spending time with the family. Now that he'd met Claire, the visit would likely be torturous. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "She doesn't love him then?" This elicited a raucous laugh from her father.

"Heavens, no," Simon smirked. "She very nearly hates him. She's begged me for years to find someone else, but they've been betrothed since the cradle. When she grew in grace and beauty, there was no power on heaven or earth that could dissuade Cruthers from making her his. He's been waiting longer than most boys would because it's Claire. I admit that I don't like the way he treats her, leers at her. Like his possession. I hope it is all from the waiting and he'll relax when they're wed." A dark shadow passed over Simon's face, telling Owen that this was a dim hope. Owen would've disliked Cruthers anyway, but now he worried about being able to tolerate the man at all. At least he could find comfort in being engaged himself and hope the O'Donnell lass to be half as pretty as Claire.

As soon as Claire arrived back at the castle, she let it slip, maniacally, that Captain Marauder was with Da. Her older sisters pummeled her with questions about him. She delighted in tormenting them with innuendo and by exaggerating his features. They were eventually interrupted by their step-mother, Karen, who entered the room with a stern expression. Karen was only six years older than Claire, but still the lady of the house. She was the mother of sons. Although they always maintained being on civil terms, Claire was disappointed that Karen never supported her when arguing against the match with Cruthers to Da. Da had secured Karen after she bore him sons - something Claire's own mother died trying to do. While Simon was unfaithful and sought the beds of many lowborn ladies across the countryside, Karen looked the other way. She found joy in raising her boys and encouraged Claire to seek the same fulfillment. Claire felt doomed to such a fate with Lowery Cruthers as her husband.

In addition to that of Lord Grady, Karen and Claire's sisters knew Lowery’s reputation all too well. His nickname was "The Bull." He'd bedded quite a few ladies, including Claire's own serving girl, Zara. Zara claimed to be helping Claire, lest the man's unquenchable lust lead him to ravish his bride and take her virtue prematurely. Claire had long-decided that Zara would remain in Dearing castle. She would be taking the middle-aged, toothless Peigi as her maid to the Cruthers estate upon their marriage. Claire found Lowery's behavior exceedingly distasteful, indicative of his utter inability to control his urges. He had no sense of decency. She dreaded what that would mean for her as his wife. What degradations she might be subjected to in their bedroom. In truth, she knew very little about what went on between men and women. Lowery had certainly never inspired her. In fact, he repelled her. The way he was always undressing her with his eyes made her skin crawl.

Claire left the castle that morning in a foul mood, ruminating on the unfortunate role of women. Lowery and his men had already gone on a hunt and weren't expected to return until the afternoon before the wedding - the same time that the majority of their guests would be arriving. By contrast, Claire was expected to remain at the tower house until then to play hostess and feign excitement for her wedding to her assembled family. A hunt, she had huffed, for stag, bore, and likely some willing lasses, too.

When Claire excused herself to bathe and change for dinner, Zara was clearly interested in learning everything about Captain Marauder. Claire tutted, dismissing him as a vain male in the same category as Lowery. Despite her verbal insults, she innately knew that Lord Grady was not the same. He more than put up with her - honestly, rude - comments all afternoon. He actually seemed excited by their banter and sided with her against her father. As she sunk into her vanilla-scented bathwater, Claire allowed herself to fantasize about the burly man with the brilliant smile. She imagined how she could make him smile at dinner. She even considered what good bedsport they might have. The trip to port improved her foul mood after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for giving this story a chance. Let me know what you think of the mash-up idea and how I kicked it off. I'm planning digestible, 2.5-3K chapters and already amidst writing chapter 5. Please send good vibes.
> 
> P.S. I humbly beg forgiveness for historical inaccuracies - complete deference to Irish/Elizabethan Era history would've significantly hampered this adaptation, but I did some research to prevent it from being wildly incorrect.


	2. Asthore

Upon arrival at the castle stables, Owen asked Simon for directions to his quarters. He preferred not to meet the household in his current, disheveled state and wanted to make a good impression - still smarting from his failure to do so with Claire - on his father's behalf. Simon understood and found a valet to escort Owen to guest chambers, arrange a bath and fit him in more proper attire. The valet also carried an urgent message to Owen from his father. He read the letter inside his room and almost fell backward in shock. His intended bride had died from smallpox. Victor wrote of arranging an alternative match, since the only remaining O'Donnell daughter was taking her vows at the convent. Victor assured him that he'd quickly identify a suitable girl. Owen's heart instantly leapt at the, potentially far-fetched, idea of making Claire his bride instead. His mind raced. There were so many variables and limited time. Could he get a message to his father? Would his father approve? Surely, a different girl could be found for Cruthers. The MacWilliam could arrange anything for his heir. Until forcing the wedding with the O'Donnell lass, Victor never denied Owen anything he specifically wanted. He'd continue to take advantage of his father. But what of Claire? She didn't love Cruthers, but would she resist marrying him, too? Certainly, Simon would agree to the match. The MacWilliam's heir would be a coup of a husband for a Dearing daughter.

During his bath, shaving, and dressing rituals, Owen daydreamed about Claire. He was going to make this happen. He didn't even stop to reconsider her more than dramatic efferct on him. Before heading down to dinner, he wrote a quick missive to his father and instructed his valet to have it sped as quickly as possible to the mainland - by any means necessary - and gave him a handsome payment. The valet shook with excitement at the heap of gold coins before racing down the hallway. Owen walked to the drawing room with even more swagger than usual, confident his plan would work. He stopped dead in his tracks and swallowed hard at the sight of Claire. His heart thumped. If anyone could've heard it, he would've been embarrassed. She wore a dark green velvet gown with a provocative neckline and slashed sleeves revealing a delicate, gold-striped undershirt. She was decked almost gaudily in emeralds, and one dipped between her breasts, drawing his eyes.

Claire dressed to impress and tease Lord Grady. She wanted to beguile him. She noticed his arousal with her on _Charlotte_ 's deck. She'd been around enough men on the ships to recognize the signs. She also understood her specific wiles and sometimes used them to her advantage. This wasn't often, however, as she preferred to make her way honestly. She desperately wanted to use them against Lord Grady as soon as she learned his identity. His failed attempt to seduce her before knowing her identity had sealed it. Facing him, unfortunately, was a different matter. Cleaned, shaven and dressed in more regal attire changed him significantly. He was now visually the heir to the MacWilliam. Not a rake but a proper man. She froze, and her breathing hitched. Claire shouldn't play the temptress with her overlord's son. She looked down, ashamed of her impertinent thoughts. She reminded herself that her soon-to-be husband was a vassal of the MacWilliam as well. They would be expected at Twelfth Night celebrations. They would interact on formal occasions. She was to run the Cruthers estate and wanted the MacWilliam's respect and favor for her people. She backed away from her position at the fireplace and sipped at her wine goblet. She tried to avoid his gaze but failed. She was suddenly aware that it was more than his title making her short of breath. Watching him watching her with those hazel orbs, there was a moment of deep recognition. She gulped, and the liquid burned her throat.

Owen noticed her draw away from him. It stung harder than the cold winds of the North Sea and chilled him to the bone. He reconsidered his approach. He couldn't come to her as the MacWilliam's heir. Couldn't stake a claim on her that she would feel obliged to accept. He wanted her to be willing. He wanted her to want him back. How could he do that in so short a time? When he had no idea if the others, whose approval was absolutely required, would accept the match? He also didn't want to get her hopes up. What if, by good fortune, she was willing and he failed to convince their fathers? What if Cruthers put up a fight? No, this was a fool's errand. He was blinded by lust. He needed to let this go. Claire was to be married in three days. She was not his. Oh, but he wanted her. And not just in his bed. The O'Donnell girl's death freed him for Claire. How could he pass on the opportunity? He already sent the letter. The request was made. Might as well try. Owen moved in her direction but was interrupted by Simon for introductions to the rest of the family.

After dinner, Owen stealthily slunk to Claire's side and whispered seductively, "I had no idea the perfection I observed in port could be improved upon." She blushed deeply and was speechless. He wasn't expecting it after seeing her bluster and bicker with him and her father all afternoon. He thought she'd have a clever retort. Maybe it was the effect of all the wine he watched her drink during the meal. His blood pressure surged at the possibility of her concealing affections for him. Although she was a dynamic conversationalist at dinner, she spared Owen both her barbs and attention.

"You mean to embarrass me, my lord," she answered softly. Her eyes darted across the room.

"Please, call me Owen." He was practically begging as he yearned for her to speak his name. She noticeably trembled while refusing to look at him.

"That kind of informality is reserved for my betrothed and certainly not appropriate for-"

"I insist that you call me Owen." He held out his arm for her to take as they walked out of the dining room. She hesitated only momentarily. Then, her face upturned with a blank look, and she slipped her slender arm into the crook of his. He fought the urge to whisk her out of the castle forever. "We are not so different, you and I," he said after a long, steadying breath. "I've warred against my father for nigh a decade to avoid marriage."

Her curiosity piqued, she relaxed and teased, "Not just because you were already married to Ireland?"

"I'm no longer in her service. My debt paid. Time to settle down."

"With your betrothed?" Claire tried to remove all emotion from her voice. A sharp pang of jealousy had throbbed in the pit of her stomach ever since Karen mentioned Lord Grady's engagement to an O'Donnell over dinner. He said very little in response - his expression unreadable - before turning the discussion to Karen's prized tapestries. Claire had been grateful. In her despair over her impending nuptials, she didn't want to learn that Lord Grady was happy with his.

"Is there somewhere private we can talk?" His tone was urgent. His eyes pleading. His opposite hand suddenly covered her hand on his arm. His touch was magically warm, and she could feel the strength reverberating through him.

She stammered, "It would draw attention and be unseemly in my position." He scanned the room. Her step-mother and several of her sisters were already watching them closely.

"Where is your bridegroom?"

"A hunt," she replied with disdain then softened. "He'll, thankfully, be absent for the next two days." Owen tightened his hold on her.

"Please, Claire." His behavior startled her. Her fight or flight response engaged instinctively.

"A tour of the cloisters," she said loudly enough that others could hear. She led him outside where the only sound was the fountain in the center of the garden. Claire was nervous. His intentions could be dark. If so, she was fully prepared to fend him off, overlord's son or not. She stiffened and spoke firmly, "What is so important that you would threaten to compromise my honor?" He was the one startled now.

"Claire, I didn't mean-"

"Spit it out. Someone may follow us out here any moment." Her feisty nature enflamed his desire. He almost lost his words again. Instead, he got to the point.

"My bride-to-be is dead." She gasped and looked sorrowful. "No, don't. I never met her. Have no feeling for her whatsoever. It was simply the best match in my father's eyes."

"That's a bit cruel, Owen." She accentuated his name with disgust. It caused him to wince. "An innocent girl is dead. Likely forced into a position just as we have been." He wanted to be in another position with Claire but needed to calm his lustful thoughts.

He scoffed in a cold tone, "She had no feeling for me as you have no feeling for your betrothed." Her eyes widened.

"That is none of your concern," she answered reflexively.

"Do you deny it?"

"No. I don't love him." There was a complete lack of emphasis on any word. Owen's head spun.

He asked desperately, "Does your heart belong to another?"

Her response was swift, "No, but that is also none of your concern." He breathed out. He'd been holding it in. Claire was angry with him, but that only seemed to excite the man. She didn't understand what was happening. How dare he ask such personal questions when they'd only just met? It was torturous to have to reveal such hard truths to a stranger, mere days before her wedding. A gorgeous stranger who made her forget her name if she looked at him directly for too long. This was cruel. "I ask to take my leave of you, my lord. I am tired from the day's exertions at port."

There was pain in his eyes when he relented, "Of course, my lady." He dropped her arm and missed her warmth immediately. She walked briskly to the door on the opposite side of the courtyard, away from her family, and did not look back. Owen felt a deep, piercing dread for them both. He was smitten beyond comprehension. For the duration of the evening, he refocused on being an emissary for the MacWilliam and regaled the assembled of his naval exploits. Claire did not return to the gathering. Karen offhandedly commented that she must be melancholy. Her husband shot her an angry glare before she turned her attention back to cleaning her youngest son's mouth. Owen caught Karen eyeing him with curiosity when she finally excused herself for the night.

Claire laid in her bed with an unquiet mind. In truth, her body may have been keeping her awake more than her thoughts. She felt a stirring that she'd never previously experienced. Perhaps it was simply bridal nerves. No, she'd been against the match to Lowery for as long as she could remember. There had never been anyone else to think about. She only ever loved the sea. She couldn't be in love with Owen Grady after one day. He was a temptation, a representation of everything she couldn't have. Too bad he would haunt her the rest of her natural life as her overlord. Even if she wasn't marrying Lowery and had her wish to run the family business, he'd loom large as the co-owner of their four best vessels: _Deep Blue Sea, Charlotte, Rhône Delta,_ and _Echo of the Wind_. She cursed the man because it was easier than weeping over her fate. How would she act around him until the wedding? She must be hospitable yet indifferent.

The following day, Claire pretended as if nothing had changed. Everything had. She wasn't able to sleep off her thoughts about Lord Grady. She knew she was drawn to him not merely because of the dissatisfaction with her wedding. She didn't feel like herself but tried to go about her usual routine. She supervised staff and visited the gardens. She talked little with her sisters - marriage might be the first thing they'd have in common. She was uncharacteristically quiet at dinner. Not playing gracious hostess. Not stepping in for her far less charismatic step-mother to entertain their guest. Karen turned toward her at one point with a pitiable expression. While Lord Grady shared amusing anecdotes, Claire said nothing. Excepting Karen's plea for help, the laughter and attentions of her family members were focused solely on him. She caught him looking her direction at one point. Seeking approval? Her satisfaction? She didn't know.

Owen did his best to entertain and give the Dearings a positive opinion of his family. It was Claire's opinion, however, that he most craved. He didn't seek her out during the day. Didn't make suspicious inquiries with her sisters or step-mother. He listened for tidbits in others' comments. As the bride-to-be, Claire was the most talked about member of the household. He imagined she'd likely be, regardless. Her sisters were plain in appearance and personality. Their husbands milquetoast. At least they were well-suited for each other. Owen wondered how Claire was so different. Raised mostly at sea, he supposed, and perhaps the other girls took after their deceased mother. Claire's step-mother, Karen, seemed intelligent and had a dry sense of humor. She shared her disappointment with losing Claire's assistance in managing the estate. There were hints of jealousy of Claire's beauty, wit, and having Simon's favor, but overall the family genuinely loved her and wished her happiness. Karen solemnly mentioned that Claire never took to her boys but hoped she'd take to her own children. Multiple people echoed Simon's sentiments about Claire being too good for the Cruthers. Owen could offer a better match but held his tongue. It was too early for a response from his father, and he knew not to overstep his bounds by broaching it with Simon directly. He attempted to draw Claire into the dinner conversation, but she relinquished only one-word answers. He reluctantly ceased his efforts with her lest it raise eyebrows at the table.

At the end of the meal, the men retired to one room for whiskey and the women took the children to another. Simon, however, came to speak with Claire and pulled her into the cloisters. "You dishonor our guest with your cold shoulder and obvious absence," he scolded. "Yer're not to be in mourning. You'll bring shame to me yet if you keep it up."

"I'll be more present tomorrow," she said in an appeasing tone. She bit the inside of her cheek and fought rolling her eyes.

"More than that," Simon scoffed. "You'll take him on a ride. A tour of our island. Stroke his ego a wee bit. Ask his opinion of our agricultural methods and architecture."

"As if he knows anything about those things," Claire hissed dismissively.

"He is a well-educated man and a more than competent sailor. He took a real shining to _Blue_." She bristled at Simon's use of her nickname for his favorite ship. _Blue_ was her only source of jealousy for her father's affections. "He is also quick-witted and kind. Your sisters are all quite taken with him. I don't see why you detest him so." Claire grumbled. She didn't want to learn anything more about him lest his fine attributes tease her more than his physical ones.

"What about my wedding guests arriving tomorrow?" she asked with a pout. It was a disingenuous complaint. She sought a clever way out of her father's request. Unfortunately, he knew her plays all too well.

He shook his head and reassured her, "You'll be back early enough in the afternoon to greet the majority of them." He paused to take a deep breath and place his hands on her shoulders. "This is important to me, Claire. We owe his family much, and I need to remain in their favor." She swallowed hard with a full understanding of his words. Da's pirating was well-known. Their company's riches weren't entirely legitimate. Their four beautiful ships from the MacWilliam could easily be re-possessed for another company's trading or repurposed for war. "It's my final request of you before you leave my house." His eyes were misty.

Claire hugged him then grinned broadly to ask, "Can I ride astride?"

"Certainly not," he smirked. "Ye're done taking advantage of me." His tone was teasing, but it was still bittersweet. Her time in his home was coming to a close. She almost wept at the thought, wishing to be a child again for many reasons.

Claire found Owen in the library after breakfast the following morning. She dressed in a modest riding habit with a high neckline but in a deep crimson silk. She addressed him with forced conviction, "Lord Grady, my father wanted me to show you our lands." Gazing up at her beautiful form from his seated position, Owen preferred a tour of her land instead and prevented himself from smirking at the thought. He tried to dampen his excitement over her finding him. He cared not that Simon sent her and would take any time he could get in her presence. He couldn't interpret her expression, but her body language suggested significant nervousness. Had Simon threatened her? Owen's instinct was to protect her.

He decided to take a gamble with his response, "We don't have to go if this is not your choice." She looked down at him with wide doe eyes. It took every shred of his self-control not to pull her into his lap. She straightened and cleared her throat, "It is my choice. I want to take you for a ride." He suppressed a laugh at her word choice before standing. He towered over her, but she didn't flinch.

He smoldered, "Should we go to the stables or...somewhere more private?" Her eyes slitted, but she bit her lip. Her neck was flushing close to the color of her clothing. "I'm joking, Claire."

"I'm not laughing," she sneered. Owen suddenly felt an urge to spank her. She was driving him mad with desire. They stared each other down. A sly smile broke open her face. "You might want to change into more...comfortable clothing. Our horses don't respond well to peacocks." He chuckled under his breath and grinned at her. She batted her lashes tauntingly in response. "I'll be in the stables."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think so far...maybe it'll encourage me to post chapter 3 sooner - no pressure ;)


	3. Cushlamachree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support so far. There's a long-awaited introduction in this chapter. Enjoy!

Claire felt no greater exhilaration and freedom than she did riding her stallion, Rex. Even side-saddle, she planned to outpace Lord Grady. She also selected him a much less impressive steed. He had to have known better and was just humoring her by not complaining about the mismatch. She delighted in his deferring to her, regardless. They rode at a fluctuating speed throughout the countryside. Claire was the affable and complimentary hostess that her father wanted her to be but also enjoyed Lord Grady's company immensely. He was every bit the man Da described. Getting to know him better also confirmed her fears. Lord Grady was worthy of her dreaming.

Upon reaching an isolated orchard beyond a cleared field, they dismounted to give their horses a rest. They walked in a comfortable silence. He put her at ease despite his position of power over her and her imminent marriage to another. Her thoughts drifted toward fantasy. She imagined a future with him instead of Lowery. It was an exceedingly pleasant alternative. And not merely because she loathed her bridegroom. It wasn't Lord Grady's legendary persona either. She appreciated his quiet humanity. His laugh. When it was only the two of them, she felt girlish. It gave her a reprieve from playing the over-bearing, dominant female role that came naturally when surrounded by her family. She could just be Claire. She still didn't think it appropriate to address him by his first name, but she liked to imagine that she had a similar effect on him. He didn't put on airs or try to impress her. She recalled the good-natured companionship he exuded at dinners with the household. She smiled happily at the thought of his joining the family. Staying in Masrannessey and running the Dearing trading empire together.

"What is it?" he asked. "You're glowing." She blushed as she stopped to turn toward him. Their faces in close proximity under the high sun, Owen noticed the sprinkling of childhood's freckles that were almost fully faded from around her eyes. He had never been more enamored of anyone in his life. This was love. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

She whispered breathlessly, "It's you." She wouldn't lie to him. His face lit up. Time slowed as she regarded his next movements. His arms found their way around her waist. His head dipped. His eyes darkened with passion. She reflexively closed her own and let out a soft whimper. Her insides fluttered with fearful, delicious anticipation. Mind and body aching for her first kiss.

When his mouth finally swooped down to hers, Claire was surprised by the softness of his lips. The tenderness of his large hands. Lord Grady seemed tentative at first. He didn't force her lips apart. She dropped her jaw open ever so slightly to allow his tongue access to her mouth. Claire let out a small cry of joy and utterly yielded to him. She savored each new sensation until his kiss became demanding, as if he meant to overpower her. Her mind instantly sharpened. She squeezed his brawny upper arms and matched his ardor. His grip on her waist tightened as their kiss deepened. They kissed each other with everything they had. All thought vanished. There was nothing but touch, taste, and smell. When the need for air finally parted them, they were both panting. She opened her eyes to find his searching hers for permission to continue. Their faces remained very close.

"You make me lose my head," he said huskily. It was music to her ears, to have such an effect on this man of the world. She swelled with pride.

"That was a wonderful first kiss, my lord," she replied in a sultry tone. He looked incredulous.

"You've never been kissed?" he exclaimed. She giggled and leaned into his chest.

"My father's men wouldna think to proposition me - they'd be cast overboard. Boys on the estate kept their distance likewise. Besides, with so many of my father's bastards running about, I'd risk kissing my own brother!" Owen considered the existence of his own bastards from his hedonistic teenage years. He suddenly worried that daughters of his own with Claire would face the same risks. Was he already thinking about children with her? And daughters, instead of sons? Claire truly was a fairy temptress sent by the little people, but he liked being under her spell. "Your betrothed?" he asked, still not fully believing her.

She cringed, "He never cared to woo me. I've always been guaranteed." She clung to him tightly and avoided his eyes. In his wildest imaginings, Owen wouldn't have guessed that a gorgeous creature such as Claire had never been kissed. Never been wooed. No wonder she was confused around him. He thought he was being obvious in his affections for her. He placed a gloved hand on her chin to tilt her face back to his. He closed in on her lips again. "No...please...don't." He felt Claire trembling as she stuttered. Her eyes welled with tears. His heart squeezed.

"Sorry, I don't mean to sully your good name," he murmured reassuringly. She wasn't fearful for her name but for her heart. She couldn't manage any words. She'd never felt so weak as in that moment, waiting on him to explain his intentions. He caressed her cheek before asking confidently, "Would you marry me?" Claire was flabbergasted. Her mouth went dry. Her pulse pounded. Her lips and fingertips tingled. Owen faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. He'd never felt so panicked. Had he misjudged all of this and taken advantage of a naive girl? She was strong but still so inexperienced and bound to the times. Her eyes were as stormy as the sea in a hurricane. "If there was a choice?" he added with a crack in his voice.

Claire finally took a breath and replied, "I would be anything to you - even a leman - if it meant not marrying Lowery Cruthers." Owen's heart sank. His face fell. It was only her hatred for the other man. She didn't share the depth of his feelings for her. "Have I wounded you again, my lord?" She smiled sweetly as she invoked their first meeting. He laughed in remembrance. His arms had not relinquished their tight hold. Claire ran her hands up to his shoulders to soothe him. "I wish I was engaged to you instead. I'd like to make you laugh every day."

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked desperately.

"If it won't cause you pain." She was deadly serious. Just as she recognized her precarious position and emotions, she knew this could end badly for him. They were swept up in something that could consume them both, with dire consequences. He hesitated too long, so she tugged at his shoulders and brought his mouth back down to hers. The first kiss was otherworldly, perhaps an apparition. She needed to confirm that it was real. That her feelings were real. The second was better than the first. She was hungry for him and felt that hunger returned. Kissing Lord Grady felt as natural as breathing. She didn't just want to make him laugh every day. She wanted this every day. Her senses flooded with the hope for pleasure beyond a kiss. That new stirring in her core began to take form. Her revulsion with Lowery and accepting her fate of a loveless marriage had shut her down. Now, Owen Grady was opening her like a flower bud for the joys of the flesh. And so much more. Her gloved fingers threaded through his hair, and this elicited a gratifying moan from him into her mouth. It was almost too good to be true. They abruptly broke apart as if coming to the same realization.

"Is it possible?" she stammered, out of breath.

"I wrote my father on the evening I arrived here." An unintelligible string of syllables escaped her throat. He cupped her face with his hands to steady her. "I thought of marriage to you on _Charlotte_ 's deck. The intervening days have only strengthened my resolve." He meant to have her. Always.

Claire was taken aback by the absolute certainty in his voice. She needed to rush back to the castle and speak with her father immediately. She'd die before she could marry Lowery, knowing now that Owen Grady wanted to make her his bride. "Let's speak to Da," she pleaded. "Now." Her foot stamped the ground, but he simply stared back at her with a silly grin. What was he waiting for?

"It's not how it's done, sweetheart." His tone was almost patronizing. She scoffed, but he smirked in response. "As much as I am further excited by your eagerness, we have to wait on my father. There could be a message from him by this afternoon."

"What if there isn't?" There was an embarrassing level of despair in her voice. "The wedding is tomorrow! The guests will be arriving soon. Lowery returns this afternoon." His face darkened.

"I know, Claire, and I dread meeting the man. I fear I'll harm him if he so much as touches you. Or looks on you with lust."

She laughed, "There is no doubt of that, my lord. It's a wonder I've never harmed him for his roving eyes." Owen gazed at her with profound affection.

"You are outrageously fair and bold. If only I'd met you earlier and spared you his maltreatment. Instead..." His voice drifted off as he ruminated on her words about lofty overlords. On sowing his oats rather than taking seriously his obligations. He'd never previously regretted his obstinance toward his father. It could mean losing her. That possibility gnawed his soul.

"Have you given up already?" she smirked, snapping his attention back to her. "You look in mourning." He smiled at her before planting a swift kiss on her cheek and leading her back to where they'd tied their horses.

Claire raced him to the castle. It was even more thrilling than she previously imagined because of the sudden high stakes. Her blood thrummed in her veins. If not for the commotion in the stables, she would've pulled Lord Grady into a stall for a roll in the hay. Lowery's hunting party had returned shortly before them. The men hollered loudly at her approach, and Claire wanted to vomit at the sound. They quieted immediately when Lord Grady appeared behind her. She overheard one of Lowery's friends whisper his nickname. Her betrothed's posture subsequently stiffened. "Captain Marauder" was a terrifying presence, casting judgmental eyes on the lot of them from atop his saddle. Claire held her head high, and Rex neighed in dominance. Lowery regarded them both carefully but remained silent. His gritted teeth and furrowed brow were unbecoming. She relished in his discomfort.

Owen dismounted first and walked menacingly toward the still unmoving bridegroom. They locked eyes. Lowery gasped with a clear understanding of what his lordship intended to do. He tried to cut him off - practically bumping chests - but flinched at Owen's forcefulness. A chuckle rumbled deep in Owen's chest as he extended his hands to Claire and helped her to the ground. She suppressed a giggle when Lord Grady made a show of kissing her hand and thanking her for the ride. Lowery looked at Owen with a childish pout, as if the other man had just knocked over his toys. Owen ignored everyone else and addressed Claire directly, "Pressing matters to attend to. Until dinner." He reluctantly took his leave of her. Despite wanting to protect her, he didn't trust himself not to come to blows with Lowery. He trusted, however, that she could handle herself.

Claire turned toward her betrothed and taunted, "Did you have good sport?" She quirked a brow as Lowery glowered at her. His hands balled into fists at his sides. She grinned deviously. "I certainly did."

"You're all mine after tomorrow, Claire," he growled. Her eyes slitted, and she bit her tongue. It wasn't worth further emasculating him in front of his men. She was toeing a dangerous line already. He wouldn't take a hand to her now, but she risked future retribution. Her eyes were lowered in apparent compliance but really to hide her smoldering hatred.

She took a deep, steadying breath and announced, "I need to clean up for our visitors." She did not curtsey before walking away.

The evening was a whirlwind of guests and congratulations. Claire and Lowery played gracious hosts while Simon entertained the higher-ranking members of the crowd. She only caught quick glimpses of Lord Grady as he introduced himself around the great hall. Unsurprisingly, he was very popular. It seemed that everyone wanted a word with him. When Lowery finally left Claire's side, Karen replaced him. She brought her step-daughter a fresh goblet, at least.

"How's it going?" Karen asked in a knowing tone.

"Everything's great," answered Claire, doing a very poor job of hiding her sarcasm. She avoided her step-mother's eyes as she took a large sip of her wine.

"Really? Because you look overwrought." Claire almost choked on her drink. Karen smirked, "Bridal nerves?"

"Something like that," Claire mumbled distractedly while searching the room for the only person she wanted to to see.

"Do you need something for sleep tonight?" Karen asked in light tone. "I can talk to Henry." Claire felt a shiver in her bones. Henry's disposition wasn't what she sought from a healer, in this or any moment. He always seemed overly pleased with his skills and knowledge, far more interested in puffing himself up than soothing his patients' ills. To make matters worse, he completely lacked warmth and compassion. Seemingly unaware of the girl's rising agitation, Karen teased, "You'll need the rest, for I doubt you'll sleep tomorrow."

"I don't even know what to do," Claire hissed. "You've never enlightened me on how to please a man in bed."

"You're a fast learner," Karen answered dismissively. "Your father believes you can do anything you set your mind to." Claire might've ruminated on the jealousy in the other woman's words if she hadn't finally caught Lord Grady's attention from across the room. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, but he only shook his head lightly. She closed her eyes as her shoulders sagged in defeat. Karen cleared her throat. "Since when are you interested in pleasing Lowery? I assumed you were planning to be a poor lover in order to keep him away from your bed."

Claire finally met her step-mother's eyes and stuttered, "For me. I should get something out of it. It's going to be my obligation, but I should enjoy it."

"I'm glad to hear it. Why the change of heart?" Karen was onto her. Claire could feel it. She looked away again and chugged a large gulp of wine. She was trying to dull her mounting terror.

Owen felt the same terror he recognized on Claire's face. He wanted to cast aside all the bodies between them and rush back to the stables with her. He could fathom no other escape. His father had not responded to his urgent, plaintive message. Enough time had passed. Owen took this to mean that the MacWilliam did not support the match and would not comply with his son's request. If so, there was absolutely no point in making a personal plea to Simon Dearing. It pained him to look upon Claire. He was, in all honesty, avoiding her. It was callous and cowardly. It was also unseemly for him not to congratulate the couple as his father's representative. In that moment, Owen couldn't care less about propriety. A deep well of shame hollowed his core. He'd never failed at anything. Never been prevented from taking what he wanted. He'd never wanted anything more than he wanted her. And he would disappoint her. That was the hardest aspect to bear.

As Owen considered his next move, Simon's form stalked into his peripheral vision. Owen thought it was, perhaps, paranoia but had the distinct impression that the doting father was sidestepping him all evening. Simon looked determined as he moved in a slow and calculated fashion. Owen followed the older man's line of sight. His wife, Karen, nodded to him from Claire's side and placed her wine goblet on the adjacent mantle. Karen's body seemed to brace for an impact. Owen's eyes moved to Claire, who was flushed and swaying slightly. His terror morphed into abject horror. He hadn't considered that his father would've chosen to contact Simon rather than his own heir. It was all suddenly clear. Owen was too far away and wouldn't cause a scene. Instead, he was forced to watch the nightmare unfold.

Claire wished she could confide in Karen about Lord Grady or implore her to speak to Da about a match with him. Unfortunately, they didn't have that kind of relationship. Da might even consider it impertinence on Karen's part and dig in his heels, if she spoke to him on Claire's behalf. No, Claire needed to do this herself. She listened for her father's voice but couldn't move her head. It suddenly weighed too heavy on her neck. The room began to spin. Karen's concerned voice seemed somehow muffled. Claire was vaguely aware of being led out of the hall. By whom, she wasn't entirely sure. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was her father's distinct growl: "Watch over her, and unlatch this bolt for none but me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger. I won't leave things up in the air for too long. Let me know what you think of the developments so far.


	4. Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that most closely follows the events of the book because it's the lynchpin, but I still made it my own. Ironically, it was also the portion of the book containing a classic _Jurassic_ line (see footnote). Sorry in advance to Lowery fans - it's only getting worse...

"Wake up, poppet," Simon Dearing said while lightly shaking Claire's shoulder. "It's your wedding day." The lilt in his voice was calming even if the words weren't. She was slowly coming to awareness but resisted opening her eyes. "You and Lowery are to be married in the family chapel in an hour. Get up, lassie."

Claire sprang up with a start. She looked around in confusion. Her body and mind felt well-rested despite her disorientation. Her eyes fixed on her father's. He sat on the edge of her bed. They were alone.

"I cannot marry Lowery Cruthers, Da." Her tone was firm. "I wish to marry Lord Grady." Simon simply shook his head.

"Enough with silly maiden fears, Claire." He was colder to her than ever. "You've had years to settle on this match. I had hoped you'd outgrow yer willfulness." He sighed and stood over her. "Make yourself beautiful for Lowery." His evasiveness didn't escape her notice. Before she could protest, Simon left her and was replaced by Zara. Claire could no longer hold back her overwhelming sadness. She'd reached her breaking point. Shuddering sobs filled the bedchamber. Hot, salty tears gushed from her eyes until they were practically swollen shut. Zara reached her arms out to comfort her mistress. She was the closest thing to a soothing presence that Claire had in the castle, so Claire accepted the embrace without hesitation. Although she had never allowed anyone in the household to see her cry, she was far beyond any prideful thoughts. The full weight of her predicament threatened to flatten her to the ground. Drugged - no doubt - by her father and step-mother, she was robbed of a final, lucid opportunity to argue against her wedding to Lowery. She stopped her crying by focusing on the likelihood that it wouldn't have made a difference. Da was a man of his word, and he had given his word on this marriage. Claire still didn't understand why he needed to render her unconscious. Was it some perverse means of protecting her or merely to lessen the burden of his own conscience? Did he know about Lord Grady? She smiled at the thought of Lord Grady bucking social mores and approaching her father directly. Claire sighed. It didn't matter now. She was expected in the chapel soon.

She resigned herself once again to her fate. Lord Grady had given her hope for another life, but it had come too late. Her mind held fast to the memories of his kiss and the feel of his powerful body restraining itself in its desire for her. Such remembrances surprisingly relaxed her. At least she hadn't given her maidenhead to him before being forced to marry another. That would've brought incalculable shame to her family. As she allowed Zara to dress her for the ceremony, Claire was detached. She paid little attention to the extravagance of her gown, with its accents of pearls and silver lace. The wreath of sweetly-smelling white flowers on her head might as well have smelled like a bedpan. The day was to be a farce.

Claire moved like a puppet to the chapel. Standing at the altar, she felt claustrophobic. Only a portion of the guests - just hers and Lowery's families - fit within the small room. Lord Grady was, thankfully, not in attendance. During the ceremony, Claire's responses were so low that she could barely be heard. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the drug given to her the night before. Perhaps she'd just succumbed and was a shell of herself. If Lowery or anyone else noticed, they might've chalked it up to bridal nerves. She couldn't bear to look at him. They were pronounced man and wife. At the moment they turned to face their families, the chapel doors flew open, revealing Lord Grady. His face anguished. Eyes stark with a pain that only she could understand. Claire wanted to die.

Owen felt crippled by the trapped look in her eyes. The shame he experienced the night before was multiplied a thousandfold. Guests were clamoring for the couple to kiss. Owen froze in place. Lowery turned Claire so that she faced him and whispered something Owen couldn't hear. Lowery appeared triumphant before crushing his mouth to hers. Owen saw her squirm, putting up as much resistance as she could muster. It was devastating and so far removed from how she melted into his embrace less than twenty-four hours before. Owen retched at the ribald cries of encouragement echoing throughout the chapel. The crowd didn't immediately notice that Claire had fainted.

Simon Dearing shouted happily, "My daughter's so innocent, she swoons at her first kiss!" At which point, Owen fully dissociated. He helplessly watched the smug Cruthers pick up his bride and carry her from the room. The heir to one of the most powerful families in Ireland had been thwarted, and a fiery rage crackled inside him.

Claire awoke to the feel of unknown hands groping her breasts through her loosened bodice. Unthinking, she swung her fists. The hands moved to her wrists, and she opened her eyes. Lowery stared down at her wantonly. She stopped herself from spitting into his face. He was now her husband. Her master. He could lawfully do anything to her that he pleased. When he leaned down to kiss her, Karen's hand fell to his shoulder.

"Slow down, Bull," the older woman teased. Lowery flushed and stilled at the use of his vulgar nickname. "There'll be none of that until tonight. Your bride has to stand for the toasts at the feast, and she'll be in no condition if you have her now." Claire had never been so thankful for her step-mother. It almost made up for her failing to intervene with regard to Lowery in the past.

"Come, my lord," Zara almost purred. "Let my lady rest from your...vigorous first kiss." Claire groaned. She might've felt nauseated if not for her gratitude to the maid for enticing Lowery out of the bedchamber. Claire finally sat up when she heard Karen bolting the door. She gagged dramatically.

"He put his tongue in my mouth," said Claire with disgust.

"You already knew him to be without tact," Karen smirked in response.

"I hoped he would have a better sense of decorum at his own wedding!"

"You expect too much. You are innocent of men." Karen's tone remained teasing, and it brought levity. Claire shrugged. No use getting angry or dwelling on the gibe. Instead, she hugged her step-mother appreciatively. Karen suddenly began to sob. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Dinna fash," Claire sighed. "I'm sure Da compelled you."

"'Tis a man's world." They laughed because there was nothing else to be done. Karen wiped away her tears, and her playful smile returned. "Did Owen Grady put his tongue in your mouth?"

Claire blushed, "Yes, but it was much better."

"Oh, Claire. He didn't deflower you, did he?" Karen was solemn rather than judgmental. They both understood the gravity of the implication.

"No. He wanted to marry me." Claire felt sorrowful and close to tears once more. Karen rubbed circles on her back. "How did you know about him?"

"You were pretty obvious in the hall last night," her step-mother answered with an eye roll. "I guessed he was the cause of your change of heart - especially after I saw the look on your face when he appeared in the chapel." Claire fought back a sob. Karen was sympathetic, "If it makes you feel any better, I noticed him, too. The way he looked at you the past few days." Claire knew she would dissolve into a puddle of tears if Karen continued. The older woman seemed to understand implicitly. No words would change the fact of Claire's marriage. Hollow sentiments would only heighten the pain. They stayed silent as Karen re-tightened the laces of the bride's dress and brushed her red hair.

Lowery was waiting for Claire in the hallway when she emerged from the bedchamber. The carousing had begun without them, and cheers went up as they entered the great hall. Simon Dearing stumbled tipsily as he escorted the newlyweds to the dais. Claire was mortified to be seated with her husband on her right and Lord Grady on her left. As the highest-ranking guest in attendance, the MacWilliam's emissary was afforded that honor. He simply nodded to her formally without opening his mouth. Any other bride would've taken offense. Claire, by contrast, took the chance to memorize his features. He was handsome despite his clenched jaw and weary expression.

Simon Dearing of Masrannessey had spared no expense*. The meal was decadent. The chef specially hired for the occasion. The wine of the finest vintages. The ale from the most exceptional brewers. Owen was artful enough to hide his troubled emotions, but it all tasted like sawdust to him. He resisted the urge to leave the high board when Lowery made a bawdy joke about oysters being an aphrodisiac. Claire took great care to avoid bumping elbows - a true accomplishment given her continuously trembling hands. Owen's heart threatened to explode from his chest at this observation.

As the toasts became monotonous, Claire's discomfort increased to an unparalleled level. Until her husband pushed it even further. "Retire to your chamber," he whispered into her ear. "I'm ready for dessert." She wanted to make a joke about their marzipan wedding cake embellished with a crude topper - the codpiece on the bridegroom was obscenely large - but held back. Claire instead chose to be as defiant as possible.

"I need to bathe," she answered with feigned sweetness. "I had no time this morning."

"When can you be ready?" he fired back impatiently.

"An hour."

"Half."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and stood. She hazarded a final glance at Lord Grady. She wondered when she'd see him again and if the sight of him would forever cause her pain. She lingered on his velvet doublet and silk pantaloons, fantasizing about the body beneath them. The folk tales were true. He was a wondrous, mythical man and would remain that way for her always. Would she ever recapture the joy she felt in his arms? She willed herself not to cry and willed him not to turn his head. With a heavy heart, she exited to the hallway followed closely by her sisters. Once inside her room, Claire went straight to the bath that Zara had wisely prepared in advance. Her sisters readied the bedchamber and carefully packed her gown. A few joked about nervousness on their own wedding nights. Claire, honestly, paid them no mind. She was lost in lamentation, looking around her room as a prisoner might regard his cell before the gallows. She foresaw scant happiness in her new life. Though it might be possible to enjoy bedsport with Lowery, she had absolutely no interest in rearing his children.

Claire washed and dried quickly, knowing that the men were soon to arrive. As her eldest sister brought the silk robe, she recoiled internally but outwardly maintained her domineering stance. "No, Siobhan," Claire said icily, "I'm not continuing that deplorable tradition.

"Claire!" Siobhan's voice was sharp. "It's a Dearing family custom, and we have all followed it. You know yer the fairest among us. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I refuse to have all those leering men see me naked!"

Siobhan scoffed, "You may be Da's favorite, but you are not above us." Her eyes slitted as she regarded her youngest sister with obvious disdain. "Dearings are proud to show we come to our husbands unblemished. You will follow the custom as we all have." Claire scanned the room only to find her sisters in solidarity with each other against her. It seemed they were eager to capitalize on this final opportunity to put Claire in her place. It wasn't malice. It was fairness. Claire would not win this battle either. What a humbling day it had been. She wanted it to be over.

The silk robe was loosely wrapped around the bride before Siobhan unbolted the door. She had no sooner stepped back from the door when it burst open, and the laughing guests poured into the little room. Lowery had already been partially disrobed by his friends. Simon Dearing approached his youngest daughter, eyes glassy from alcohol but still able to play his part. He held his hand up, and the voices went silent. "This is the last of me daughters to be wed," he announced. "As with all my girls, I am proud to show that she comes unblemished, and free of pock marks, to her bridegroom."

Before Simon could signal Siobhan to drop Claire's robe, Owen Grady pushed forward and declared, "Dearing! As your overlord I claim the _droit du seigneur_ of this woman." The guests were thrown into shock. Lowery's jaw dropped to the floor. Claire gripped the sides of her robe tightly. Lord Grady looked to be most sober man in the room, but it was unprecedented madness for an overlord to claim the _droit du seigneur_ , first night, of a vassal's bride. She held her breath as she awaited her father's response. The master of Masrannessey swallowed hard.

"A poor jest, my lord," Simon replied, his words suddenly without mirth or slur. "My daughter's no peasant wench." Lord Grady drew himself up to his full imposing height. Claire's heart raced. She was both terrified and excited. "I am your overlord, Simon Dearing. You swore obedience to me on my tenth birthday. It was by my most generous hand that you received this barony of Masrannessey. Our laws demand that you comply with my request."

"No!" shouted Lowery. "She's mine!" Owen looked scornfully at the younger man, who was shaking and turning bright red in his half-clothed state. In his desperation and haste, Owen had almost forgotten about him. He would never consider Lowery to be a formidable rival. In this instance, however, the final decision rested with the groom. Owen sniggered, "I will remind you, Cruthers, that your family owes obedience to my father - whose deputy I am. I claim the _droit du seigneur_ of your bride." The two men stared at each other. Lowery didn't dare to physically threaten his overlord's son. Owen was pleased with his self-control. He credited his sobriety and an overwhelming desire to protect Claire for his not striking the Cruthers. He eventually scoffed, "Will either of you gentlemen endanger your families and insult me over a girl's maidenhead?" It was a sea of wide eyes and open mouths among the bystanders. Claire felt close to fainting again. She would much rather spend her wedding night with Lord Grady, but separating from him the next morning might destroy her. She also feared that bedding her had been his endgame all along. That his talk of marriage had only been a ruse.

The uncomfortable silence in the hot little room was finally broken by Lowery's quivering voice, "I'll pay a penalty, my lord."

Owen eyed Lowery arrogantly, then drawled, "Your life, or the wench's maidenhead." A gasp went up. This was high drama. It would be the best gossip throughout the halls and hovels of Ireland for years to come. Lowery blanched and turned toward his bride. Claire recognized the helpless, defeated look in his eyes. It was what she felt during their wedding ceremony. She straightened and glared back at him smugly. She was valuable enough to Lord Grady to set such a high price of her husband. Surely, Lord Grady wouldn't risk damaging his family's name in this manner just for her virginity. He must have a plan or, at least, honorable intent.

"I yield," Lowery finally said. "And damn you to hell, my lord!" He stormed out of the bedchamber, followed quickly by Simon and the other guests. Owen shut the door behind them and slammed the bolt home. Turning back, he looked at Claire, a vision of unequaled strength and beauty. He was still hot with anger, but it was rapidly transitioning to lust. "I do mean to take you," he said quietly. Owen hesitated to approach her, for fear that he'd be too rough with her in his agitated state.

"I know," she answered in a soft voice. She suddenly felt chilled and self-conscious. She'd never felt so ill-prepared for anything. Her sense of inadequacy was further deepened by her strong compulsion to please Lord Grady. She felt doomed to disappoint him when she should've been thrilled to be spending a night with Captain Marauder. She needed to stall or knock him down a peg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I'm not going to keep ending the chapters on cliffhangers. The stop point here felt right to me because Claire and Owen are clicking back into themselves now. Let me know what you thought of the wedding day!
> 
> * - _Skye O'Malley: A Novel_ , page 25


	5. Tír na nÓg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouragement so far - consider this chapter a treat!

"Where are your fine pantaloons and doublet, my lord?" Claire asked with a mix of sadness and disdain. Caught up in his dramatic request, she hadn't previously noticed that he'd changed his clothes into what he wore on their ride together.

He sighed, "I was halfway to the stables - ready to return to the mainland - when I got the idea for _droit du seigneur_. I didn't have time to change back. I didn't think you'd care." His eyes shifted away from hers with apparent offense.

"I don't," she muttered, biting her lip. "It was just...how I was going to remember you." His heart seemed to shatter. His lust paused. She had already said her goodbyes to him. "I'd given up, too," she relented. "I had no more items on my list of possible solutions." She looked as skittish as a caged animal. Owen was reluctant to reach for her. He wished that his touch could take away all the ugliness of their situation, but he didn't have a plan beyond spending the night together. And, as much as he wanted to thoroughly bury himself within her warmth, he needed to put her at ease first. His eyes fell to the whiskey bottle and two glasses sitting on the nightstand.

"A drink?" he asked lightly.

"I'll pass," she winced in reply. "Lord knows what they might've put in it." Owen felt guilty, even though he had no reason to.

"I watched them drag you away. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene." He wrestled with sharing his suspicion that his father had contacted Simon. It was still speculation, as Owen had no opportunity to confront the man. At least, not while Simon was sober. Claire suddenly rushed forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Owen's waist and resting her head against his shoulder. He inhaled her intoxicating scent and could feel her breasts through the thin barriers of fabric between them. He wanted to rip off their clothes and have her on the floor directly beneath where they stood. As she began to weep, he suppressed the impulse and returned her embrace.

"I don't want to think about anyone else right now," she pleaded. "I need you. Like I've never needed anyone before. I don't completely understand it, but I felt it yesterday. It's not just because of my marriage." He felt her nipples harden against his firm chest. If there had been no other sign before, his self-control told him this was more than lust.

"I feel the same way, Claire. It's why I came back...why I claimed the _droit du seigneur_." He took a deep breath. "I love you." She stilled in his arms then looked up at him. Green eyes wide like saucers, gleaming against the tiny tear droplets caught in her lashes.

She could tell that he meant it. Neither Lowery nor any other man had looked at her the way Lord Grady did now. It calmed her racing heartbeat and stopped her crying. "I should like to call you 'Owen' now," she said with a blush. Her cheeks felt hot. The stirring in her core stronger than ever.

That was it. He couldn't hold back any longer. It was the first time she said his name since the night in the cloisters. It ignited something deep inside him. A passion never previously experienced. He pulled her into an earth-shattering kiss. Her body went limp. Her muscles relaxed everywhere except her mouth, where she was avid and pushing hard against his own. Their tongues battled for dominance. His sense of taste returned after he suffered through dinner, and she was more delicious than before. He was ready to feast on her. He pulled back his mouth but kept his arms around her to beg, "Say my name."

"Owen," she moaned. She repeated the word as he kissed her neck and slipped one hand inside her robe. He relished her tiny jump and soft gasp when he ran his thumb over her erect nipple. He hadn't been with a virgin in a long time, and nothing felt quite as good as seducing Claire. Her breast was the perfect size for his hand. Her skin as soft as it was fair. He was losing himself in the moment. "I have two," she whispered breathlessly but impatiently.

"Keep telling me what you want, darling," Owen groaned in delight. "I am yours to command." She purred as he switched sides. Her fingers lightly clawed his back. His head swam. He was drowning in his desire for her. He moved to kiss her delicate mouth again.

Any lingering doubts that Claire had about the frankness of his feelings for her were swept away. It was almost as if his searing kiss was imprinting his love on her very soul. Their kiss was so intense, she was loathe to stop. She also remained anxious about her sexual inexperience. Without breaking the lip-lock, Owen untied the sash of her robe and pushed the garment off her shoulders. The chill in the air, combined with her anxiety, caused her to tremble. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"I want to see you in all your glory," he whispered before nipping her bottom lip. He trailed a finger from the pulse point on her neck to the valley between her breasts then stepped back to appraise her. "You are stunning, Claire." He smiled at her with admiration and took her hands to entwine their fingers.

She cleared her throat loudly and said, "Your turn." Her mouth watered at the thought.

He clicked his tongue, "I have plans for you before that."

"Just your shirt then."

"A compromise?" he teased.

"Always." Her trembling ceased. Owen felt light though his heart was full. He knew she had changed him irrevocably. His heart would never let her go. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them both in turn before placing them on the bow at the center of his collarbone. She tugged at the strings to open the top of his shirt, and he saw her pupils dilate. Her hands didn't immediately move from his upper chest.

Claire was committing every second to memory. It still felt unreal that she was standing naked in front of Owen. Come what may, she needed to savor this time. Her first time. She was astounded by his patience with her. She wanted to make him feel as wonderful as he was making her feel. She moved her hands to his waist and untucked his white linen shirt. He helped her pull it over his head. In appearance, his chest was not so different from other sailors she'd seen. She'd just never wanted to touch a sailor's chest before. Owen sucked in a sharp breath when she ran one hand diagonally across the front of him and circled around his body. She didn't break the physical contact and appreciated his muscles twitching beneath her fingertips. It was glorious.

He grasped her wrist when she completed her rotation. His eyes bore into hers with need. It took her breath away. "You have to stop or I'll have to toss my plans out that window," he said, pointing with his free hand to the un-shuttered opening across the room. He was only half-joking. He intended to relieve her tension before taking her maidenhead, but the clever witch was weakening his willpower. She beamed at him with apparent pride and replied docilely, "I'm at your command as well."

Thoughtfully - without haste - he picked her up and laid her on the bed. Her thick hair billowed shining and vibrant across the white pillows. Her flesh quivered as he planted warm kisses in a steady stream from her neck to her navel. She froze when he positioned his head between her legs. "Just relax, Claire. I mean to give you pleasure first."

She nearly seized when she felt his tongue and fingers on her most sensitive area. With her hands above her head, she gripped the pillow tightly. She almost giggled as she labored to prevent her body from jolting up and down. This was not what she expected. It was a mixture of muscle tension with ripples of relaxation. All of it felt divine. Why hadn't her sisters told her about this? Why had they judged Zara for openly pursuing this? It pleased Claire to imagine that Owen was a superior lover compared to all her sisters' husbands. Even more strongly than during their first kiss, she lost herself to the sensations. Conscious thought fell away. Her breathing became coarse. Her body was languid, yet filled with a great strength at the same time.

Owen took immeasurable satisfaction in her rapid rise to passion. Nothing ever sounded so sweet to his ears as Claire murmuring his name with desire. He was also impressed that she could draw out her pleasure - another sign of their being well-matched. He paused to praise her, "You are amazing." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. He smiled at her adoringly, but she groaned and roughly pushed his head back down with both of her hands.

"Don't you dare stop," she chastised. Owen laughed against her sex. Hot-tempered virgins were said to become insatiable lovers, and he cherished the carnal appetite he was kindling in her. One of her hands stayed in his hair while the other pressed against the headboard. He desperately wanted to be inside her but remained committed to his initial goal, her high-pitched mewls and whimpers providing the necessary motivation.

In the instant that the tight coil building at her center finally snapped, Claire loudly wailed his name. She hoped the entire castle heard it. She'd shout his name from the towers, if possible. Owen continued his ministrations as her body shuddered. "You are a god," she choked out between heaving breaths.

When she finally stilled, he quickly divested himself of his pants and pulled up beside her. He hesitated to disrupt her obvious peacefulness. She was a vision of loveliness in her state of _la petite mort_. That he put her there was extremely gratifying and, in combination with his love for her, caused him to experience similar fadings. She didn't roll toward him, so he leaned over to plant a tender kiss on her lips. She cupped his face with her hands and asked softly, "What's next?"

He grinned broadly then reassured her, "The briefest of pain before pleasure again." Claire was suddenly aware of his erection against her leg. She reached down to touch him, and it was his turn to shudder. She practically melted with satisfaction.

"Do all women have such an effect?" she asked with curiosity as she continued stroking him.

"None compare to you." His velvety voice held the faintest hint of a tremor. Their eyes locked. She didn't know exactly what IT was, but she knew she wanted it.

"Get the pain over with," she demanded in a low growl. He crushed his mouth to hers and gently rolled on top of her. Claire felt a deep, burning pain as he pushed inside her. She prevented herself from biting his bottom lip, not wanting to draw blood. The pain quickly receded and was replaced by a throbbing fullness. Owen drew her legs around him. She reveled in the feel of him between her thighs. She brought her hands beneath his arms and massaged the muscles of his back, pulling him down to her in time with his thrusts. She felt everything, inside and out. He made love to her with exquisite delicacy all while celebrating her verbally. The combination set her on fire, top to bottom. Claire never felt more alive. More important. Her body responded to his every touch, eagerly seeking each new thrill.

Owen adopted a measured pace. It was overwhelming. She was overwhelming. When he felt close to bursting, he sat back on his knees to stimulate her manually and watch her luscious form writhing at his touch. She goaded him on, lauding his skills.

"Never leave me," she pleaded. "Stay inside me."

"The devil himself will need to part us," he reassured her as his chest heaved.

"I'd follow you into hell." Her words were fierce and husky. She glowed in a way not dissimilar to their walk in the orchard. Their effect on each other was strong and mutual.

After he brought her to the brink once more, Owen fell forward to pin her arms above her head. He laced their fingers before his hardness broke. For a moment, they hung suspended in time. Nothing mattered outside of their synchronous bodies. They were truly one.

Claire finally opened her eyes to observe him. Witnessing the ecstasy on his face was both humbling and empowering. Pleasure and pain in perfect harmony. It expended what little breath remained in her body. She had no energy to laugh or cry but could be moved toward either one. It confused her and consumed her. She squeezed his hands with all the strength she had left.

"I love you, too," she whispered. It escaped her lips unbidden. Pure. She felt another surge of pleasure as he opened his eyes and smiled down on her.

He didn't know if she really meant it. Really understood how to separate the physical release from the emotional one. In that second, however, he didn't care. He'd make it his life's mission to feel everything deeply together. Owen pulled one hand out of her tight grip to caress her cheek. She suddenly laughed so hard that small tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. He soon found himself laughing, too. They shared a wordless, all encompassing joy. He eventually rolled to her side and pulled her into his arms.

"I want this every day, Owen." Through the haze of bliss, a plan coalesced in his mind. He couldn't believe that he hadn't realized the solution already.

"You shall have it," he replied with certainty. "We'll go to my father in the morning. My brother, Barry, is a priest. He has friends in Rome. He'll get you an annulment for adultery with me." Before he knew it, they were kissing again. He wasn't sure who initiated it. Perhaps it was instinctual on both their parts.

"Ready to go again?" he asked teasingly. She didn't respond verbally. Claire reached to touch him again. To feel his manhood respond to her. She couldn't get enough of that. Owen closed his eyes and crooned, "Take me for a ride." She was thrown by his echoing her statement from the day before and paused to blush. He chuckled, "As you like to ride your stallion." She squealed as he abruptly lifted her body to sit astride him.

"I don't know what to do," she said quietly.

"Do what you want to do," he answered with the quirk of a brow. His fingers drew small circles on the outsides of her thighs. Claire's heart pounded as she considered his offered body. She ran her hands across his chest and down his well-muscled arms. Emboldened by his attention to her needs and comfort, she grasped his wrists and placed them above his head, just as he had done. Instead of bringing her face down to his, however, she brushed his cheek with her breast. Owen's breath hitched, so she took her cue to rub slowly against his face. She found herself unconsciously rocking her hips into him, and they both moaned. Soon after, he captured a taut nipple with his lips. Claire gasped when he pulled it into the warmth of his mouth. His tongue was just as talented there as it had been between her legs. She started to lose her grip and focus. Her eyelids fluttered. His arms pushed against hers, and they were suddenly seated upright and facing one another. Her legs remained wrapped around his middle. His lips caught hers as he gripped her hips and forcefully sheathed himself inside her again. She hissed in shock, but it wasn't painful. Owen buried his face in her neck while he plowed into her. Her arms snaked around him to bring their bodies as close as possible. After her horrifying wedding day, she could scarcely believe the euphoria that now enveloped her. She knew she was spiraling toward the edge of paradise for the third time.

"Let go," he commanded gently. They climaxed and cried out in unison. It was surreal. They were both sweating and trying to catch their breath. "You're maddening, Claire," he panted as he pulled them back down to the mattress. She hummed her delight in his words, and he gazed at her with profound affection.

"You brought me back to sanity, Owen," she replied, accentuating his name with love. Her green eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but they shone with reverence and awe. Tenderly, he kissed her forehead.

"Sleep," he cooed. "In the morning, we face the world with the shocking news that we would be together. We'll need to be well rested to meet the uproar that's sure to follow." She looked up at him expectantly. "I meant every word." She snuggled into him and inhaled his masculine scent.

"So did I," she whispered fiercely. At last, enclosed in each other's arms, they fell asleep, trusting in love and committed to living by their own rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tír na nÓg is a name for the Otherworld or paradise in Irish mythology. I chose it as the the title of this chapter for smutty as well as sly reasons. A folktale of Tír na nÓg is recounted in a scene from the film _Titanic_. Dinna fash - this epic is far from over. Please leave a Comment!


	6. Banshees

Owen woke to a cloth being stuffed into his mouth. Simon Dearing oversaw three of his own men-at-arms swiftly pull Owen off the bed then half-drag, half-carry the naked man out of the room. A nimble-appearing kitchen boy followed closely behind them and softly - but firmly - shut the bedchamber door. Owen considered the boy's size and imagined that his small frame could've maneuvered through the unshuttered window to unbolt the door from within, allowing his captors entry. The master of Masrannessey was surprisingly vicious when the need arose.

Fiercely, Owen struggled against the stout trio, who hustled him down the main hallway of the castle. He was not afraid, for he knew that Simon Dearing wouldn't kill a person as valuable as the MacWilliam's heir, the most honored guest at the wedding.

"You'll not yell, my lord?" Simon asked him when they entered a room down the hall. Owen shook his head. His arms were freed, and the gag was pulled from his mouth. A goblet of ale was placed in his hand, but he dramatically dropped it onto the tabletop.

"I'd have a word with your healer before accepting a dram from you," Owen sneered with contempt. Simon merely chuckled as the kitchen boy brought over his prisoner's clothes. Owen was furious, but arguing with the master of the house while stark naked put him at a significant disadvantage. While he dressed, the older man finally spoke, "You will be on your way immediately, my lord. Young Cruthers has spent an unhappy night, drinking and abusing Claire's maid. The sight of you now could drive him to rashness. I should not like to answer to your father if you were harmed."

Owen yanked on his boots and scoffed, "I want Claire's marriage annulled! My first night in this castle, I wrote my father to implore you to call off her marriage. I want her to wife. I'll see to it that Cruthers is given a new bride and a large bribe. Why do you think I did what I did last night? To amuse myself? I love your daughter, and I hope my action will force Cruthers to give her up." Simon Dearing looked back at him with amazement.

"Laddie, laddie!" the patriarch replied in a pacifying tone. "If I have nothing else in this world, I have my good name. The word of Simon Dearing has never been questioned because 'tis good as gold. I have never broken my word! I will not do so now. Claire was betrothed to Lowery as a child." Owen opened his mouth to speak, but Simon raised a hand. The older man appeared sympathetic when he added, "Regardless, your father would not permit you to marry a Dearing of Masrannessey. For you, it will be an O'Neill, an O'Donnell, or an O'Brien - daughters of the high aristocracy. Not my little lass." Owen's hazel eyes flashed.

"She is fit to be a queen!"

"Ah, laddie, you'll get no argument from me on that account! But my daughter is Lowery Cruthers's wife till death parts them. You've exercised the _droit du seigneur_ on the bride. There is nothing else here for you. Go home. Leave me to mend the broken fences and my child's broken heart."

"I'll not leave without Claire - she comes with me!" The master of the castle barely nodded to his men, but Owen saw it coming. He closed his eyes in anticipation of a blow to the head and silently cursed his suddenly inhospitable host.

When Claire first heard her father's voice and felt his hand on her shoulder, she wondered whether the last twenty-four hours had been a drug-induced dream. No, she had not imagined that hellish day and its heavenly night.

"Claire, lass! Wake up now."

Slowly her green eyes opened, and she asked groggily, "Where is Owen?" Her gaze quickly swept the room, and her voice became a frightened whisper. "Owen?"

"Owen Grady has gone home."

"Impossible!" she declared arrogantly. "I don't believe you. He loves me. He promised we would be together!"

"Men frequently make promises in the heat of passion that they have no intention of keeping," her father said brutally. "Get up and finish packing, daughter. I'll send Peigi to help you dress. You'll travel with her, Lowery and Vivian to Gyrisfana Valley on _Echo of the Wind_. You may ride Rex to the port, where your dowry is currently being loaded into _Echo_ 's hull." Claire's eyes widened in alarm. She couldn't go to the mainland with Lowery. Her blood boiled with hatred for the man. He would never satisfy her as Owen did, in any manner. On some level, Simon appreciated her distress. "Don't worry, poppet. Lowery won't be taking you to bed until he's sure you don't carry Grady's bastard. You'll have time to collect your thoughts and get your bearings at your new family's castle." Her shock was beginning to subside. Her father's words were sobering, but she refused to accept them. Her eyes slitted. Her voice steadied.

"You're lying to me, Da. What have you done with Owen?"

"I'm not lying, Claire. Grady has gone home!" His tone was impatient. She thought he was repeating lines, as if memorized from a script and resistant to any deviation. Maybe it was guilt, as Simon's heart didn't seem to be in his words.

"Where's Zara?"

"She's sick this morning," her father said as he left the room. After enduring an incomparable despair just one day prior, Claire sat numbed. The day and night canceled out the other, and she was bereft. Owen assured her they wouldn't be parted. He said he loved her, and she had confessed the same. Where was he? Had they killed him? Oh, God, no! She began to tremble. No. Of course they hadn't killed him. Her father would not kill his overlord's heir. Perhaps, said an evil voice in her head, perhaps Da is telling you the truth. After all, your experience with men is limited. Perhaps Captain Marauder has amused himself with you and has now gone back to his own. Her heart began to hammer fiercely, and, for a moment, she thought she would faint. Then, from deep inside, Claire called on the reservoir of strength she had built up over the years. If she listened to doubt, she would go mad. She must trust to her intuition. She knew Owen meant what he said. Claire Dearing would not give in to panic.

After getting dressed in a bold green riding habit, Claire found a man-at-arms waiting outside her door and directed him to fetch the trunk in her room. Head held high, she regally descended the stairs. Her father, Karen, and Lowery awaited her in the great hall. Lowery looked terrible. His eyes were badly bloodshot and puffy, and his face was marked with scratches and bruises. She steeled herself for the confrontation. "Good morning, Lowery." He nodded with an angry expression but said nothing. Claire shrugged, then turned to her father. "I am ready to go, Da, but before I do I want to know the truth. Owen would not have left me unless forced."

Lowery Cruthers' dark eyes widened, then narrowed. He addressed his father-in-law, "What the hell treachery is this, Dearing? It's bad enough that Grady demanded the _droit du seigneur_ of my bride before the entire district. Now, it appears she was in collusion with him!" He whirled on Claire. "You little bitch! How long has it been going on? How long have you been whoring with Grady? I ought to beat you black and blue!" She was unafraid and eyed her new husband coldly.

"I met Owen but a few days ago," she said shrewdly. "Yes, we are in love. I do not understand how it happened, but it did. I do not particularly like you, Lowery, but I would not have hurt or embarrassed you deliberately." Her voice remained calm and level. "Owen Grady wants to marry me. Give me an annulment. You don't love me. The MacWilliam will arrange for you to have a new and noble bride, and a fat financial settlement to soothe your wounded pride."

Lowery looked as if she had lost her mind then turned to Simon with incredulity. "Have you given me a half-wit to wife, Dearing?" He turned back to Claire. "Listen, you little fool! The MacWilliam isn't about to let his heir marry with the likes of you. Owen Grady is a rake. He wanted only to fuck with you, which I've no doubt he did quite well if his reputation is warranted. It's over! Now you'll come with me to Gyrisfana. When I'm sure Grady's seed did not take root, you'll be a proper wife - like me or no - and your body will be mine alone."

"Da!" Her calm exterior cracked. Her tone of voice pleading.

"Obey your husband, Claire," her father commanded. "He is your master now."

"Never!" she hissed and stomped her foot. Lowery leaped the distance between them and, grasping her by the arm, slapped her brutally several times. Shocked, for her father had never hit her, she could only try to protect herself from his blows.

"Whore!" he screamed. "I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me!" He shook her hard. Furious and fearful both, Claire pulled away.

"Whoreson!" she spat. "Strike me again and I'll plunge a knife into your wicked heart!"

"Enough!" roared Simon, stepping between the two. "Karen, take my daughter to the stables." Simon turned on Lowery. His voice stern. "You forget you are still in my home. You're lucky Zara already made your face too pitiable for another mark. Join your sister in the carriage." The master of Masrannessey faced his daughter with sympathy, but his gaze was met not with her wondrous green eyes. Instead, they were almost black with rage.

"I'll not forgive you for this, Da," she said quietly. Shooting him a look of pure hatred, she left the hall with her stepmother.

Karen looked on her stepdaughter with a deep sorrow. Claire didn't want pity. She wanted a way out of her situation. As unreal as it was to spend the night with Owen, so, too, was their walk through the suddenly frigid castle. It was no longer her home. No longer a safe haven. Claire wore a stone face but saw tears welling in the other woman's eyes. Karen abruptly and wordlessly tugged Claire toward the kitchen.

"There's a terrible bruise starting to form on your cheekbone," Karen said softly while choking back a sob. She dipped her handkerchief into a pot of cold water and, squeezing it out, handed it to Claire.

"How does it look compared to what Zara got?" Claire asked while holding the wet cloth to her injured face. Karen's lower lip trembled before she could answer.

"Lowery made her do all kinds of things no decent man would ask of a woman. Then, he beat her half to death and kicked her out."

"By the sight of him, she got in a few good licks," quipped Claire, trying to subdue her emotions.

"Aye, she struggled fiercely in his grip." Karen's eyes went frosty and forbidding. The color drained from her face. It made Claire shiver. "Be careful with him. He's a monster." Claire refused to give in to fear. She resolved to escape her husband.

Deflecting and betraying nothing, Claire inquired, "Will Zara be all right?"

"Her bruises will heal," Karen replied with solemnity. Claire nodded, and they silently resumed their walk to the stables.

Claire took the long way to the port. She felt pulled in every direction and scarcely maintained her bearings. She enjoyed riding Rex, but the island no longer gave her joy. She felt consumed with anger. Toward her father. Toward Lowery. And, being completely honest, toward Owen. If there was any truth to her father's words, she was a naive girl and not the wise, educated woman she strove to be. She cursed the men for seeding such doubts in her mind. As she dismounted at the docks, Claire took hold of the hope that Owen would come for her in Gyrisfana. She wasn't particularly religious, but praying for this was all she had left to do.

She boarded _Echo of the Wind_ and nodded to the captain before taking Rex down to the hold. To keep both her horse and herself calm, she decided to remain with him below deck for the duration of their relatively short sea journey. Claire also wished to avoid seeing Lowery and his younger sister, Vivian. At sixteen, Vivian was practically an old maid. Claire didn't understand why Lowery wasn't bothered by Vivian's continued presence in the Cruthers household. Nor did Claire understand what kept the aged Carlton Cruthers from securing his only daughter a husband. The girl was pretty enough - thick, flaxen braids, pale-blue eyes, and a pink-cheeked complexion - but there was something sly about her, something Claire did not like.

As she brushed Rex's mane and tail, Claire wondered what crimes before God she had committed to deserve her current punishment. It might have eased her mind to know that Owen Grady suffered no less than she did. He regained consciousness and discovered himself bound like a Christmas goose on a tiny sailboat that was bouncing all over the water. The bearded captain of the small craft gave him a wicked but sympathetic grin and said with amusement, "So, you're awake, me lord."

"Where the hell am I?" Owen snarled. "Unloose me at once!" The captain looked unhappy.

"Ah, now, your worship, I can't do that. If I were to unloose you, and you became violent, which I can see you're sure to do, I'd be in terrible trouble." He looked back at the water and sighed. "Simon Dearing ordered me to take Lord Grady home to the MacWilliam, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Ye'll not call off my mission."

"At least sit me up, man, and give me a drink. I'm cramped, and my head feels like the little people are mining gold inside it."

"All right, lad," the Captain chuckled. "You don't ask for too much, and I won't make you any more uncomfortable than you already are." Bending, he hauled Owen into a seated position, his back against the mast, and held a flask to his lips. Owen gratefully swallowed several gulps of the strongest whiskey he'd ever tasted. It hit his stomach like a burning rock and immediately began to spread its warmth through his cramped, wet body. "So, Simon sent me home?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Aye, me lord, and you've slept as peaceful as a babe most of the way. We're just about there." Owen craned his neck to look at the coast. He recognized his family's lands and was itching to speak with his father. "What's your name?" he demanded.

"Tanaka," came the curt reply. "After we land, I'll walk you home. I've a message to deliver to the MacWilliam."

"Walk!" Owen exploded. "We'll take the first available horses we can find. Do you ride?"

"Not well."

"Then God help you, Tanaka!" he sniggered. "You'll soon be as uncomfortable as I am now." When they finally reached shore, the captain untied his passenger and helped him from the boat. Owen rubbed his wrists where the ropes had chafed him and clambered up the hillside from the beach. Without even looking to see if Tanaka was with him, Owen strode quickly away, following a faint path. After about a half-hour, they came to a modest farmhouse. It belonged to a family well-known to the Gradys. In a pasture just beyond the garden, a dozen sleek horses grazed peacefully.

"Let's go, Tanaka," Owen called behind him. "I'm anxious to be home!" After a short conversation with the farmer, two well-bred mounts were prepared. With a wave to the family, Owen and Captain Tanaka rode off.

"Your peasants must be prosperous to have any horses at all, let alone such fine ones," observed Tanaka as they cantered along.

"These are our horses," Owen answered. "We keep good horses with several specially chosen families for just such purposes as these. That way, we're never stranded." He then spurred his horse to a gallop. "Come on, man," he called to the captain, who was bouncing up and down on his mount, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "We need to fulfill your mission."

Owen was to regret his haste. No sooner had he entered into the MacWilliam's presence than Simon Dearing's letter was handed over to the great lord. Tanaka was sent off to be served refreshment, and Owen was left alone - and impatient - with his father. Victor Grady's strong features darkened as he skimmed over the parchment. Finally, the MacWilliam snorted and, looking angrily at his son, roared, "Well, you arrogant puppy, I hope you have a helluva good explanation for your conduct! Simon Dearing's ships are vital to the defense of this area, as is the goodwill of the Cruthers of Gyrisfana!" Owen, of course, had not read the letter.

Caught off guard, he blurted like a schoolboy, "I love her, Father! I love Claire Dearing! You didn't respond to my letter to call off the wedding."

"Dearing wouldn't have called off the match, you fool! It was made years ago. He was bound to it! And a damn good match it was for his youngest lass. How dare you interfere without my backing?"

"I love her, and she loves me. She detests the Cruthers bastard they've wed her to! She always hated him, even before we met."

"And you felt that gave you the right to claim the _droit du seigneur_ of the bride? Jesus! If you were anyone else, I'd kill you!"

"I love her!" Owen shouted.

"So you've said...multiple times," his father observed with annoyance.

Owen continued ranting unfazed, "I want her marriage annulled, so I may wed her. Barry can talk with a cardinal." At the mention of his eldest son's name, the MacWilliam's nostrils flared with rage.

"Over my dead body!" the overlord barked. "Dearing's ships are valuable to me. His wench is not. I'll have no pirate wench mothering my grandchildren!" Father and son glared at each other. Owen's hands curled into fists at his sides. His muscles twitched to strike a blow. "Wake up from this fantasy." Victor was smug. "I'm arranging for you to wed with an O'Brien. Ethna is fourteen and ripe for marriage."

"No!" Owen almost lunged forward, but the older man didn't flinch.

"This is happening, whether you like it or not." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Take the Dearing girl as a mistress, if you wish, but you cannot wed her." Owen chuckled viciously and relaxed his hands. He would sting his father with words instead.

"Is that what you did with mother?" Victor's eyes widened. It was Owen's turn to be smug. He had truth on his side. "I thought you'd be more sympathetic to my letter. An arranged marriage didn't serve you well." Owen's fury emboldened him. If his father would deny him Claire, what else was left to lose? The sharp words rolled off his tongue. "You were driven to murder."

Victor stood and yelled, "Stop!"

"Love is worth risking anything," his son continued. "You know that better than anyone."

"You only mean to take advantage of my favoritism - like always," the MacWilliam sneered. "Don't pretend to give me a lesson in love. You knew the Dearing bitch but a few days. I knew your mother her entire life. I never dishonored her as you did, pulling that _droit du seigneur_ stunt. I suggest you move on. The lass already has a husband. And from what I hear of him, once he takes her to bed, you'll become just a pretty memory to her."

"Go to Hell!" Owen Grady stormed out of his father's study and got gloriously drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm excited to truly introduce Barry and Vivian in the next chapter. Please tell me what you think about this update!


	7. Cú Faoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (I was out of town for a week). I hope it was worth the wait!

Owen was awoken by a page, who delivered an immediate summons from the MacWilliam. Owen's head felt twice its normal size. He couldn't remember stumbling into his bedroom the night before. He dressed quickly and went directly to his father's study. When the two men were alone once again, Victor Grady passed his son a letter and snickered, "This was brought for you this morning. I have taken the liberty of reading it and can only say that Claire Dearing is wiser than you are." Owen read it with shock:

"My lord Grady, I have retired to my new home in Gyrisfana Valley, where I shall pray to Our Lady that the shameful night we spent together bears no unhallowed fruit. What we did was wrong, and I can only hope and pray that my husband will forgive me. I beg that you forget me, and for the good of your soul enter into Christian marriage with a good woman at the earliest possible moment. May God go with you always. ~Claire, Lady Cruthers"

Owen's blood pressure surged. His vision blurred. Discordant thoughts filled his brain. He wanted desperately to deny what he read, but he had never seen her writing. Was it a forgery? The hand was sweetly rounded and feminine, and he recognized the imprint on the wax seal as the one Claire wore on a ring. Had she been forced her to write this message? He knew her stubbornness first- and secondhand. They could have burned her feet with hot irons and she'd not have written it, had she not wished to do so. Damn her! Was that all he meant to her? A "shameful night"? Damn her for the fickle bitch she was! Anguished beyond anything he had ever known, Owen blinked back his tears and said hoarsely, "I'll not agree to marry Ethna O'Brien until I confirm the veracity of this letter." He noticed a twitch on one side of his father's face. There was something untoward afoot.

The MacWilliam eventually cleared his throat and declared, "The O'Briens want assurances of your match as soon as possible." His tone was patronizing. "Ethna could be married off to several other highborn Irish lads."

"Let her go to someone else then," Owen hissed petulantly, "if Captain Marauder isn't worth waiting for." He'd never previously invoked his nickname with his father, but it was often implied when Owen was being defiant. He crumpled the letter in his hands. "I'm sure you'll have no problem finding another, ripe girl for me should this prove to be true." He was furious. His father didn't care about what he wanted. Owen was merely a means to a partnership with another famed family. He felt like a pawn.

Victor sighed, "You know I love you." Owen scoffed audibly. His father's face twitched again before he continued, "I hate denying you anything, but Claire Dearing is married."

"She wasn't when I first wrote you." Owen stuffed the letter into his pocket and ran a hand over his face in frustration. Then, he looked directly into his father's eyes. They contained some measure of warmth and understanding. Owen tread lightly as he continued. "Why do you repeat the mistake of your own father? Have you not learned from the past?" For a moment, Victor's expression softened. His mouth opened to speak, and Owen held his breath. The MacWilliam, unfortunately, stopped short. His features resumed their hard lines. Owen breathed out and asked impatiently, "Has Barry arrived?" Prior to the untimely demise of his O'Donnell fiancée, Owen had asked Barry to officiate the wedding. The scheme was to work doubly in Owen's favor. It would serve as revenge for the arranged marriage and give him more time with the brother he barely knew. Owen only learned of Barry's existence due to his mother's deathbed confession. It subsequently took Owen several years to locate the man, who had been shipped off to France as a babe. In light of recent events, Owen looked even more forward to seeing him and was elated that he had no opportunity to call off the visit.

"Yes," Victor sneered. "I sent your priest to the chapel." He motioned for his heir to leave. "See to it that he doesn't stay long, since he no longer has any reason to be on my lands."

"He's your son," barked Owen. Victor stood. His eyes brimmed with rage.

"His mother tried to kill me. I would've disinherited him even if he hadn't taken up the cloth. You should be more grateful for that. Now, go!" The MacWilliam pointed menacingly at the door. Owen bit his tongue as he left the room. He could use a priest to help sort his emotions toward his father and Claire. He cringed at the thought of her as Lowery Cruthers' willing wife after giving Owen a night of bliss. How could she destroy his happiness almost immediately with such a cold letter? He groaned. No, she couldn't have written it. It had to be a ruse orchestrated by their fathers. Owen, however, needed proof of this. His heart and pride would suffer too great an injury if the letter proved to be real.

Owen greeted his brother warmly in the chapel, "Thank the Lord, you are here."

Barry looked at him quizzically and replied, "You look unwell. I heard about your bride-to-be from the castle steward. Don't tell me you are grieving? I thought you'd never met her?"

"So," Owen sighed, "you haven't heard the more recent gossip?" Barry shook his head before his brother related the events that had transpired since the two last spoke in France.

"God bless you, Owen," Barry laughed when the other man finished his tale. "You in love may be better gossip than _droit du seigneur._ "

"You know me well enough then," answered Owen resignedly.

"Alas, not well enough to understand what pains you now." The priest's tone was sympathetic.

"The letter." Owen's shoulders drooped, and his gaze shifted downward. Barry continued to look on him with confusion. Owen pulled the parchment out of his pocket and handed it to the other man, who examined it closely.

Barry cleared his throat and said seriously, "Surely, brother, you cannot think this is true?" He was matter-of-fact while Owen remained silent. "You said you believed our father communicated with hers before the wedding?"

"Yes," Owen answered in a low tone. Barry began to pace slowly as he rubbed his chin.

"And the stepmother was complicit in Claire's being drugged on the eve of the wedding?" Owen merely nodded. "The stepmother wrote the letter before you were even delivered here."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Brother, snap out of this melancholy." Owen took slight offense at Barry's dismissive tone. "Tell me, this...Captain Tanaka, was he pale and dark-haired with a bushy beard and unsteady on a horse?"

"Yes," stuttered Owen, not following the priest's line of thought.

"I saw him leaving in great haste as I arrived this morning. There has been no other messenger from Masrannessey today."

Owen's eyes popped wide with newfound hope, but he tempered it with a grumble. "I don't share your confidence."

Barry's gaze narrowed as he answered sternly, "You mistake cynicism about our father for confidence." Owen suddenly felt guilty for not asking his brother about the homecoming. This was, after all, the man's first visit to Ireland and must be stirring discomfiting emotions.

"I'm sorry," Owen said sheepishly. "I've been selfish." Barry shrugged and placed a hand on Owen's shoulder.

"He refused to see me. Hence, my knowledge from his steward." Owen looked at him with pity, but Barry brushed it off. "I made peace with Victor's actions long ago, before I took my final vows. Let's not dwell on it. We've lost too much time already, and forgiveness is my calling." He clapped his hand on Owen's back with a grin. "Tell me now, will you be going to Gyrisfana?"

The younger man groaned, "The MacWilliam wouldn't sanction that, and the Cruthers clan would run me out if I tried." Barry looked at him disapprovingly. Owen's brow furrowed. "What?"

The priest quirked a brow and taunted, "Those reasons would not satisfy your Claire."

"Assuming she didn't write the letter," Owen shot back tempestuously.

"I may be celibate," Barry smirked, "but I am no fool. I recognize the fear of betrayal in your eyes." They stared silently at each other for several seconds before Barry relented with a chuckle, "What will you do then?"

Owen cleared his throat and whispered, "I was hoping you would travel to Gyrisfana for me." His eyebrows went up expectantly as the other man rolled his eyes. "Hear me out," Owen pleaded. "Be my eyes and ears. Gather evidence for an annulment."

"Who am I to say sent me?" scoffed Barry.

"Our father! In the event she carries a Grady child, she needs protection. Her husband is vile. There's no telling what he might do to her in retribution." Owen labored to reign in his mounting anger and jealousy.

"You don't think my appearance will seem suspicious?"

"Only Claire knows that I have priest for a brother, and there's no family resemblance." His voice steadied. Owen knew his argument was sound. Barry would be the perfect spy and guardian for his beloved.

"You trusted her with that information and yet you doubt her faithfulness?" Barry was shrewd and wise. Owen felt humbled but also more confident in his plan.

"It cannot be me." His tone was firm. "The Cruthers won't turn out a priest."

"I can take her confession," Barry said with a sly smile, "and, if the letter proves legitimate, I'll return immediately."

"Exactly!" Owen responded quickly and without forethought. He averted his brother's eyes.

"Fine," muttered Barry, shaking his head. “I will go." Owen let out a sigh of relief before the priest added, "But don't delude yourself into thinking that she'll be happy to see me." As they started to walk toward the chapel door, Barry gripped Owen's arm and implored cautiously, "Use your fabled powers of persuasion on our father while I'm gone. 'Twould be most unfortunate for me to return here with her in tow and the MacWilliam continue to protest the match." Owen ruminated on how to approach his father whilst, miles away, Lady Cruthers contemplated her own existence.

Claire passed the time by riding and familiarizing herself with the estate. Exploring the boundaries of her prison. She had never previously been land-locked. Her passion was always for the sea, despite her vast knowledge of running a household. She understood provisioning, salting, conserving, preserving, soap-making, and perfume-making. She knew the rudiments of brewing and household medicine. She had learned to keep accounts, for Simon firmly believed it was the only way to avoid being cheated by one's own steward. The list went on and on. It should've kept her mind occupied, but it only served to remind her of what she lost. The life she might be leading with Owen.

The new bride needed constant physical activity or else she might never have slept. She desperately wished to know what Owen was doing and thinking. Where he was. If he was well. Surely, he appreciated the anguish she now felt. He could not have made love to her with such tenderness and generosity while intending to leave her forever. She retained the hope that he would come for her. That he would make good on what he promised. There were still times when Claire cursed Owen, for leaving her in the company of such a wretched family. Lowery would leer at her over dinner with a combination of contempt and lust, spoiling her appetite. He, mercifully, avoided Claire outside of the evening meals.

Carlton Cruthers was an older version of Lowery, a pompous lecher with a penchant for fine wines and good whiskey. Claire had almost been a victim of his quick hands, going so far as to brandish a candlestick at him and threaten to expose his outrageous behavior. The incident made Claire wonder about her own dowry. Half the household items brought from Dearing castle - including hand-blown Venetian glassware, French velvets, and silver bowls and candlesticks - were mysteriously missing. The Cruthers tower house was in a state of significant disrepair, and she'd learned from the sparse staff that Carlton and Lowery had endless gambling debts. Claire mused that her new family might've sold the most valuable pieces of her dowry before they'd even been unloaded from _Echo of the Wind_.

Claire had hoped that she might find some kinship with Vivian, but it was all for naught. Though she looked like an angel, Vivian proved to be as intolerable as the rest of the Cruthers. She had no religious vocation, ambition, or passion for anything and seemed content to remain in the family home. It was puzzling to Claire, who had always been headstrong and independent of her family. She wondered if her sister-in-law kept a lover, but Vivian never discussed having a sweetheart nor did Claire observe the girl looking dreamy-eyed at anyone. Instead, the young mistress walked the castle as if she was the lady of the house, lording over the staff but not engaging in any meaningful tasks.

Further proving her immaturity, Vivian did not tolerate criticism. On the two occasions Claire attempted to correct the girl for minor faults, Vivian had complained to both her father and her brother, and Claire was told to leave her be. Claire, thankfully, had some measure of revenge when she caught Vivian stealing her jewelry. Claire boxed the girl's ears and warned - with feigned sweetness - that she would have Vivian's head shaved if she caught her sister-in-law stealing again. Afterward, the two women maintained a wary truce. What bothered Claire most was that Vivian always appeared to be laughing at her, hugging some secret to herself that she would not share with anyone else.

In just a short time, Claire had learned to keep an emotional and physical distance from her in-laws. This distance, fortunately, led to an especially nice discovery. At the edge of the forest that bordered the valley, she happened upon an injured young wolfhound, not quite full grown. Hearing its weak bark, Claire ran to the dog, who looked up at her hopefully and thumped his long tail in a friendly fashion. Half-starved, the poor creature's ribs were plainly visible. His fur was so filthy and matted that it was difficult to tell the dog's true color. One leg was caught in a rock crevice.

"Ah, poor beastie," she murmured sympathetically. Carefully, she removed the small rocks about the animal's leg. And then, as gently as she could, she drew the leg from its trap. The dog winced but did not growl. "There, love," Claire crooned as she patted him. "Come along now and let's find some food for you." The dog fought his way to his feet and limped, stumbling a little, after her.

The castle staff were as sympathetic as Claire had been, but the Cruthers were a different matter. Carlton callously predicted it wouldn't survive the night. Lowery wanted it caged. Vivian revealed her intense fear of dogs and shied away from it completely. The hound's origin and owner remained a mystery. The valley's peasants would not dare claim the royal canine. Peasants kept only working dogs, such as terriers, mastiffs, and mongrels. The Irish wolfhound - that legendary killer of wolves and other predators - belonged to the ruling class.

The dog survived the night in Claire's private chamber, curled next to her fireplace. She marveled at his indomitable spirit and named him "Dom," for short. Dom attached himself to her with a singular devotion. He walked out with her in the mornings, kept up as best he could with Rex, and spread his great lanky frame across the foot of her bed every night. Within a few days, he was well on his way to regaining a normal adult weight. Dom stood proudly at forty inches high. Bathed, his fur was a shining, yellowish gray that reminded Claire of Owen's eyes. The hound became Claire's slave, his soulful eyes lighting up with pleasure each time he looked at her. By contrast, Dom took an instant dislike to Lowery and gave a warning bark whenever he was near. Claire basked in the dog's love and protection. She needed it while awaiting communication from the outside world and in the absence of Owen.

During a morning hike with Dom on the eighth day of her marriage, Claire crested a hill and almost fainted. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight trying to identify the regal-appearing male form on horseback. Dom kept pace with her as she ran excitedly toward the solo visitor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter's introductions :)


	8. Taibhsí

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's seriously harder than I thought it would be to write when _Fallen Kingdom_ is open in places around the world but not where I live. Never fear, I'm not abandoning this AU! Enjoy :)

Claire slowed her speed when she got a better look at the rider. It was not Owen, after all. This man had a darker complexion, was balding, and - most obviously - wore a priest's collar. She was exceedingly disappointed by this turn of events until it dawned on her that he could be Owen's brother. Her guard remained up. The stranger stopped his horse and dismounted at her approach. He eyed her warily, as if he was expecting her to attack. Dom adopted a protector's stance and placed his body between the two humans. Although initially startled, the priest bent down to gently pet Dom's head and rub the tips of his ears. The dog beat his tail against the ground happily, and Claire relaxed.

"Are you Barry?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, Claire," answered the visitor, sadness apparent in his eyes. "You didn't forget." Her eyes slitted. She felt anger welling in her chest. It burned the back of her throat.

Her voice was coarse, "I remember everything Owen told me. Everything he promised."

"I tried to warn him that you'd be displeased."

"That's an understatement," she scoffed. "Why did he send you?"

"He's scared."

"Of what?" Claire was flabbergasted. Dom came to rest at her side and tipped his nose up to her face. She took a deep, steadying breath and smoothed the fur on the dog's neck. Barry pulled a piece of paper from his coat and held it out to Claire.

"He thinks you wrote this." The holy man looked nervous and shook his head. "One look at you, and he'd know it wasn't so." She was deeply confused. Her hand trembled as she took the letter. Her anger surged as she read it.

"How could he be so easily fooled?" she muttered. "How could he think so little of me?"

Barry sighed, "He never saw your handwriting. He told me the seal matches one you wear on a ring." He pointed to her hand, and she rubbed her family ring. Her expression softened. Owen had been observant, at least.

"All Dearing women wear these rings." Claire breathed out. "This is my stepmother's handwriting. My father must've..." Her voice trailed off. She hadn't thought it possible to hate her father more.

"You have a very forbidding look."

"Can you blame me?"

"No."

Claire felt herself starting to cry and choked back tears. "Did my father also expel Owen from the castle?"

"Yes. A boy was sent up the vine outside your window to open the bedchamber door for your father and his men. Owen was gagged and taken from the room." She gasped and sank to the ground as Barry continued. "My brother pleaded with your father, to allow you to be together, but Simon Dearing wouldn't listen. Owen was knocked unconscious and taken home by one Captain Tanaka."

"My father's most loyal lieutenant," snorted Claire. "He doesn't have a mind of his own, always follows orders. Did he already have the letter on his person?"

"That's what I suspect, but it wasn't given to Owen until the following day. Our father gave it to him."

"Monsters, the both of those old men."

"I don't know either of them, but the information I have would suggest that is an accurate assessment." Claire looked on the priest with a mix of confusion and sympathy. "My father disowned me as an infant. Claimed I wasn't his. Sent me to France. Owen located me but a short time ago, never having been told of my existence until his mother's dying breaths." Claire's eyes closed. This was too much information for her at one time. She was overwhelmed and brimming with conflicted emotions. "Owen's a good man and has a most winning way. The MacWilliam is stern but loves him very much. Owen remains with our father to argue for a match with you, Lady Cruthers." Claire stood abruptly and placed her hands on her hips.

"Never call me that," she almost shouted. "I shall never acknowledge Lowery's name as mine. I am Claire Dearing!"

"Aye," Barry smirked. "I'm glad to hear it. You are the woman my brother spoke so highly of. Exactly as he described."

"If he knows me so well," she snapped, "he should be here himself."

"Let's not talk in circles." The priest's countenance shifted as he appraised their surroundings with concern. "Put that away," he said flatly, pointing to the missive again.

"I'll burn it."

He nodded then whispered, "Aside from that, I'm here to look out for you and collect information for an annulment." Her brow furrowed.

"Why didn't Owen send you sooner?" she fumed. "The Grady homestead in Connaught is but a two-day ride from here."

"I don't know this country, Claire, and...I spoke with parishioners along the way. They do not speak kindly of the Cruthers." She glared at him for making the most obvious pronouncement in human history. Barry grinned mischievously. "It is true then? 'Tis a household of randy cocks and a flighty hen?" Claire couldn't help but laugh out loud. It was probably her first genuine laugh since waking up without Owen. Barry laughed with her before continuing. "I've been told that the Cruthers men's reputation with local women is so bad that the daughter has no tiring woman of her own." This revelation shocked Claire. She knew Carlton and Lowery to be vulgar but had assumed that debt and Vivian's nature were to blame for the absence of a serving girl in the house.

Claire sneered, "Would that were grounds for annulment."

"I'm truly sorry, Claire." He paused to clear his throat. "You could be with Owen as your husband dallies with other women." She stiffened. The temptation would be fierce, but Claire held herself in too high a regard to be anything less than his cherished wife.

"The cost of that would be too great. My husband would punish me. Moreover, I couldn't bear Owen sharing his bed with me but his life with another." Barry seemed to hold his tongue as they stared at each other. Her anguish would not be mitigated as long as she was married to Lowery. Her life felt upside-down.

They walked slowly toward to the castle with Dom close to her side but no longer on alert. Barry recounted his expulsion from Ireland. The MacWilliam's first wife was said to have pulled a knife on her husband one night while he slept. Their wolfhound supposedly came to his master's defense, and Barry's mother did not survive the mêlée. Claire looked down at Dom and wondered if he was capable of killing a person. She wouldn't mind if he killed Lowery under similar circumstances but held back on verbalizing the thought so as not to offend her guest.

Until Owen tracked him down, Barry believed that his biological father was unknown. He was raised by distant relatives in France, and Victor Grady asserted that the unfamiliar-looking infant was sired by another man. Owen's mother, Charlotte, had been Victor's childhood sweetheart and Barry's nurse. After becoming the MacWilliam's second wife, Charlotte kept the secret of Barry's irrefutable Grady birthmark to herself. She eventually revealed the truth to her only child, as if seeking absolution. Believing that her fatal wasting sickness was the result of this grave sin. Owen sought to make amends. The MacWilliam didn't endorse his search but didn't stop it either. It heartened Claire to learn of Owen's strong, moral character. Although still upset with him, both her mind and her body craved him with a desperation that almost tore her apart.

As they approached the garden encircling Cruthers castle, Barry inquired, "How shall we explain my presence here?" He wore an odd look and appeared nervous once again.

"You don't have a plan?" asked Claire with incredulity.

"I didn't agree with Owen's plan." The priest rolled his eyes. "He meant for me to tell the household that I was sent by the MacWilliam to protect a...possible Grady bastard." He grimaced as if apologetically, but Claire didn't take offense.

"Lowery won't believe that," she laughed. "Fortunately, he's not home." Barry visibly relaxed. "Sir Murrough sent word that he was needed, and he'll be gone a few days. I'm glad to be rid of him."

"Have you lain with him?" His eyebrows went up. Claire knew that the church was more likely to grant an annulment if their union had yet to be consummated.

"He won't come to my bed due to the 'possible Grady bastard.'" Her voice was thick with revulsion. While more than happy to repel Lowery, she didn't wish to be pregnant. Not even with Owen's child. She feared for hers and the babe's safety if that came to pass. She took a deep breath. "Lowery's father, on the other hand, has tried to corner me a few times. Good thing he's currently suffering from gout and his mobility is hampered. He couldn't kick you out even if he suspected something!"

"And the daughter?"

"Vivian keeps to her apartment at the very top of the tower house most of the day. She is secretive, and there is something unwholesome about her." Claire shook her head. Vivian was their greatest threat. "She reports everything to her father and brother. They dote on her, in turn, and believe she can do no wrong."

"She could be Lowery's eyes and ears as I am Owen's." Claire winced at this comparison between Lowery and Owen. She bit her lip and considered their next play. "Your French accent is an excellent cover," she said with determination in her voice, "but being sent by Victor Grady would sound an alarm, regardless." She tapped a finger on her chin and grinned slyly. She had a better plan than Owen. "Carlton will host a priest, new to the region, but likely only until his son's return. Spend the time ingratiating yourself with the estate's staff and peasants. Take confession. Give communion."

"Do you think it will work?"

"It's our best bet, and I, too, have a winning way." Claire suppressed a giggle. "I'll convince the household that I need a priest due to my own sins."

"I'll follow your lead," Barry answered with a wink. Her step was lighter through the gardens. Dom wagged his tail, reflecting his mistress' newfound exuberance as he scampered after her.

Within the Grady stronghold, Owen had been slowly wearing down his father. He was feeling haggard himself. Four days after Barry's departure, Victor finally addressed the specter in the castle. Albeit reluctantly and impiously. They sat side-by-side, drinking malmsey, next to a glowing fire. Owen was increasingly pensive - borderline mopey - and his father was likely unnerved by the obvious erosion of confidence.

"This pirate wench must be an unparalleled fuck to have ensnared you," the MacWilliam declared with a hearty chuckle. His tone hinted at a modicum of sympathy.

"There is a great deal more to it than that," Owen replied indignantly.

"Ah, so you admit that she is glorious in bed?" Lord Grady couldn't help but grin at the remembrance of her innocently eager passion. Smirking, Victor sat back in his armchair and waited for a verbal response.

The younger man eventually sighed, "Can we be earnest?"

"That is indeed a novel concept for us." His tone was surprisingly without sarcasm.

"Admit that letter was a forgery."

Victor beamed, "It burns you to imagine that she prefers another man's cock." They both excelled at neither confirming nor denying the other's assertions. "You struggle, my son." Owen groaned as his father continued mockingly, "Struggle breeds greatness."

"Do not patronize me, Father. Remember what you told me about mother? How she was dazzling? Radiant? And, no matter how many women you knew, none compared to her?"

"She was a rare find." Victor smiled wistfully with a hint of moisture in his world-weary eyes.

"As is Claire Dearing."

"Tell me of your earth-shaking love for her." Owen took a sharp intake a breath. His heart raced. This was a challenge. A test.

"It came on so quickly that I still don't fully understand it." The MacWilliam rolled his eyes. Though Owen yearned to articulate himself better, his depth of feeling was difficult to convey. It was unlike anything he'd ever known, in or out of a bed. The younger man stuttered, "It's...it's like sickness and the cure in one." Both men froze and stared at each other. The answer was raw and unexpected from the lips of Captain Marauder.

Victor gulped, "That's the wisest thing you've ever said, boy." He stroked his gray beard, as if considering a serious proposition, then spoke firmly, "I'd recognize any bastards she gave you as my heirs."

"Don't tease me," Owen sniggered. "If you think Claire worthy to bear our heirs, she is worthy of our name as well. I have never wanted any woman but her for my wife." He took a deep, ragged breath. "But Lowery Cruthers is strong and healthy. He will probably live forever. She and I have no hope."

"His death could be arranged...but you're too noble for your own good! Love has made you a weakling."

"I don't have a hound to blame," Owen replied acidly. Victor's eyes slitted. His son further twisted the knife. "You should've put him down afterwards, if you wanted to maintain that charade." The MacWilliam stood and threw his goblet into the fire.

"You loved that hound and owe him your life as much as I do," the old man growled. "If you don't mean to claim the woman for your own, then keep away from her. Her husband won't wear the horns of a cuckold gracefully. He's apt to kill you in a fit of jealous rage."

"Or I kill him," mused Lord Grady quietly. His father flashed a lopsided grin before stomping out of the room.

When Lowery Cruthers returned to his family home, he was shocked to discover his new bride in a cheerful mood. Claire greeted him in the great hall, "Enjoy your time away, husband?"

"No," he huffed. "Unless you're going to tell me you've bled, I suggest you...and your mongrel leave me be." Dom was snarling at Lowery, who retracted his foot as if to kick the dog. Dom barked loudly and startled the man into stumbling backwards. Claire remained amused for several hours, especially when Lowery took his supper separately. After the evening meal, she decided to walk the grounds. She went to the kitchen to fetch Dom - the cook liked to give him bones - but he wasn't in his usual place by the hearth. A bolt of fear struck her. Claire searched the halls frantically until she bumped into Barry.

"I can't find Dom," she cried softly. "And I haven't seen Lowery all evening. What if...he..." Gripped with a deep terror, Claire was unable to finish her sentence.

Barry steadied her shoulders and reassured, "We'll find Dom together." They walked toward a portion of the castle that she did not frequent: the remote salons flanking Vivian's chambers. Claire had never been inside her sister-in-law's apartment before. She had never been asked, and there had never been a reason to violate Vivian's privacy. The door leading to the private staircase was slightly ajar. As Claire and Barry crept quietly toward the opening, Dom suddenly trotted out of it. Overcome with enormous relief, it took Claire several moments to realize what the dog held in his mouth. Dom came to rest at her side and dropped the item at her feet.

"Why would he bring you a candlestick?" Barry asked with confusion.

"It belongs to me," Claire answered solemnly while patting the hound's head. "One of the missing items from my dowry." She began to breathe very heavily. Her body prepared to do battle. "Stay here with Dom. I need to investigate this myself." She picked up the candlestick and tightened her fist around it. Her knuckles whitened with the force. She snorted at the thought of using it as a weapon or flinging it across Vivian's apartment.

Claire slowly climbed the stairs and, upon entering the dayroom, was aghast at the sight of her other missing dowry items. The windows were hung with the French velvets she had planned to use in her own chambers. The small polished oak sideboard that Simon and Karen had given her stood against one wall. On it sat her small silver tray with hand-blown Venetian goblets and decanters.

"God's nightshirt!" she swore under her breath. "I'll murder the bitch!" Furious, Claire was about to storm off to seek out Lowery and demand an explanation when she heard laughter and the murmur of voices - one very definitely masculine - from the bedchamber above. Unable to quell her overwhelming curiosity, Claire silently ascended the stairs until she reached the small landing. The bedchamber door was half-open. The closer she got, the more vividly she recognized the sounds of vigorous lovemaking. She peeked into the room and confirmed her suspicions: Vivian and a man, both naked, were intertwined. The color drained from Claire's face when she heard Vivian moan, "Harder, Lowery! Harder! Yes, yes, brother darling! It's so good! So good!" Claire felt a wave of nausea sweep over her as she clung to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you scandalized? Let this revelation sink in, and I promise to post the next update faster. Please share your thoughts and reactions!


	9. Maithiúnas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support of this story in the wake _Fallen Kingdom_. I have now seen it twice and am letting my thoughts settle before deciding what to write next. I'm hoping to finish this one first, and aspects of the new movie will seep into this and subsequent chapters...

Slowly, Claire slipped to the floor - still clutching the door - nearly faint at the sight. Their words of "passion" filled her with both horror and terror.

"Sister," Lowery groaned, "you are so sweet. Shall I fuck you until you can't walk?"

"Yes," Vivian breathed. "You know how I enjoy that." Lowery laughed in a way that made Claire's skin crawl like never before.

"Tonight, sister mine," he answered, "after days apart from you, I plan to fuck you till you beg me for mercy, and then you'll pleasure me in a hundred other ways I'll invent!"

"Whatever you want, my darling!" Claire felt the bitter taste of bile rise in her constricted throat as Vivian panted, "Hurt me, Lowery! Yes! Hurt me!" Claire squeezed her eyes shut. Unable to contain herself as she imagined the scene, she sobbed aloud.

Vivian shrieked, "Oh, my God! There's someone here!" Lowery leapt from the bed and, yanking the door fully open, caught sight of his doubled-over wife.

"Well, well," he murmured nastily, "what have we here? It's my adoring bride."

Vivian's eyes narrowed, and she shouted, "Bitch! How dare you spy on me!"

"I wasn't spying," answered Claire, her voice shaking. "I was looking for Dom, and he ran from your chambers with this in his mouth." Clutching the candlestick in one hand, she tapped it against her opposite palm. Her strength began to return as her heart pounded inside her chest. She pulled herself up to stand.

"I always thought that beast needed a cage," Lowery sneered. "I'll see to it that happens now." One of his hands grasped Claire's shoulder. When he moved to slide his other arm around her, Claire pulled away quickly. She resisted the urge to strike the naked man with the candlestick. Lowery suddenly lunged for her, but his wife sidestepped him. He stumbled through the door, lost his balance, and fell screaming headlong down the flight of stone steps leading to his sister's day room. There was a stunned silence. He lay still - twisted grotesquely - at the foot of the staircase.

Vivian rushed over to the doorway and stood gazing down into the room below. Then, she turned on Claire and howled, "You've killed him! You've killed Lowery!" Holy Mother forgive me, thought Claire, but I hope so! As relief brought clarity sweeping over her, she turned toward Vivian and furiously slapped her, leaving the imprint of her hand on the girl's face.

"Shut up, you vicious little bitch!" Claire hissed.

"We must get help," whimpered Vivian. Just then, Barry and Dom appeared next to Lowery's body. Vivian shrank away from Dom's bark but not before Barry caught a glimpse of her natural state.

"Is he still breathing?" Claire called down to Barry. She bit her lip, trying to subdue her glee.

"Yes," the priest answered while tugging the throw off an adjacent settee to cover Lowery's genitalia. Vivian slammed her bedroom door shut as Claire gingerly descended the steps. Claire and Barry cautiously carried Lowery to his own rooms. They both remained silent. She didn't want to unmask her immense hopefulness in the face of extreme deviance. Barry, on the other hand, appeared deep in thought. Perhaps he was praying for their souls.

The family's surgeon was sent for and arrived just as the dawn was breaking. Lowery lived, but it would have been better if he had died. His spine was broken in two places. He was paralyzed from the waist down. He would not walk, or function as a man, ever again. Claire thanked the surgeon, paid his fee, and sent him away. Then, with Barry as witness, she took on the Cruthers.

Carlton blustered at her, "Vivian says you're responsible for my son's condition."

"Your son is responsible for his own condition," replied Claire coldly. "Last night after the meal was finished, I couldn't find my hound. Father Barry and I happened upon Dom leaving your daughter's rooms with an item from my dowry. I found her and your precious son fucking merrily! And it was not the first time they had engaged in this...incest! When I moved to flee from them, Lowery tried to stop me. He fell through the open door and down the stairs as I recoiled. I'm only sorry he didn't break his damned neck! It would have saved me the trouble of caring for him."

Barry addressed Carlton with the formality of a judge, "The Church condemns incest. Your new daughter-in-law has grounds for an annulment that I will support with a personal testimonial." Barry and Claire exchanged a knowing glance. She couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. The priest added, "If you still believe that Claire has wronged your son, Carlton, then we can take the case and place it before the MacWilliam."

"Yes!" sobbed Vivian. "For once in your life, Father, do something! Lowery will spend the rest of his days half a man because of her! She deserves to be punished!" Claire drew herself up proudly and looked down upon the vengeful Vivian.

"Yes, sister," she purred. "Take your case to the MacWilliam. Please do. Then, be prepared either to prove your virginity before the midwives' panel or name your lover! Who will you say it is, Vivian? One of the serfs? I think not. You're far too proud a bitch to admit to fucking with a serf. Who then?" Vivian gulped. Her lower lip began to quiver. Claire chuckled, "There is no one else! No one ever comes to visit you." Tears leaked from the corners of Vivian's eyes, but nothing would Claire hold back. "Perhaps you could claim the Devil for your lover. In a sense, you'd be speaking the truth." The Cruthers patriarch suddenly looked old and defeated. Vivian wept helplessly. Claire announced with finality, "I am going home to Masrannessey, and I will not be back. Since Vivian loves her brother so deeply, she can remain here to care for him for the rest of his life."

"You heartless pirate wench!" Vivian shrieked.

"Watch yourself, sister. When I petition the Church for an annulment, I could accuse you not only of incest with your brother but of witchcraft as well! You deserve to burn for what you've been doing!"

"I love him!" Vivian screamed. Claire looked pityingly at the other woman.

"In the time that Lowery has left, we will see how much you really love him." She raised her hands and motioned about the room. "You are now the only mistress of this dung heap."

The following morning, Claire bid her husband an unemotional farewell, "I hope you enjoyed what you and your sister did the other night, for the memory of it will have to last you a lifetime."

"Bitch!" he snarled at her. "What kind of a woman are you to leave me?"

"A better woman than you ever knew or appreciated, Lowery. Your conduct with your sister has wiped free any obligation on my part toward you. Goodbye." He struggled to rise.

"Come back! I command you, Claire!" She never turned back. His voice - alternating between curses, threats, and pleas - followed her until the sound became unintelligible and finally faded altogether. Claire rode away from the Cruthers house on Rex with Barry at her side on one of the MacWilliam's finest horses. Behind them were the carts carrying Dom and her household goods.

When they reached Masrannessey several days later, there was no peaceful haven there. Simon Dearing lay dying, having been badly injured by a falling mast in a storm as he was bringing _Blue_ home. A stubborn man, he had refused to die until he reached his home. He also needed to see his youngest daughter. The messenger he sent to Claire had found her as she took ship for Masrannessey Island. She was barely in time to bid her father a final farewell. Tearful, she kissed his cold and sweating brow. "I'm done with the Cruthers," she said in a soothing tone. "This is my home." He nodded. Explanations were unimportant now.

"Your brothers are too young for the ships yet," he gasped weakly. "You've got to take charge for me." It never crossed her mind that he was thrusting a huge responsibility upon her.

She answered simply, "Of course I will." With apparent difficulty, her father eked out a smile and caressed her cheek.

"You're the best of them, lassie. Even the boys."

"Oh, Da," she whispered. "Oh, Da, I do love you!"

"Claire, I'm sorry." His face was pained beyond measure. "This time, follow your heart," were Simon Dearing's last words to his favorite child. He died a few minutes later, holding her hand. Her beautiful green eyes overflowing, she looked wordlessly to Barry.

"I heard him," he said, "and I'll uphold your rights, Claire. You're the new Dearing." Claire looked to her stepmother.

"I heard him, too, and I trust you," said Karen. "You'll do right by us all."

"The ships belong to Zachary and Grayson," answered Claire. "I will humbly serve as their surrogate until they come of age." The two women hugged.

"Forgive me," Karen spoke between heaving sobs. "I'm so glad you came back to us in one piece."

"It doesn't matter," Claire whispered back. "It's in the past now."

As quickly as the family of the Dearing chief could be assembled, they determined the length of the wake and the date of the funeral. With Father Barry and Karen to back her, Claire was reluctantly recognized as the new head of the trading empire by her brothers-in-law and her very shocked sisters. Her clansmen and vassals came quickly, almost joyfully, to pay their homage to Claire, the new Dearing. The men who had sailed with her father and with her when she was a child circulated once again the old tales of her bravery and skill.

The next step was a journey to the MacWilliam's stronghold to pledge him her fealty. Only Karen knew the truth behind Claire leaving her husband. Her stepmother was horrified but sworn to secrecy, at least until Barry could bring the petition for annulment to church leadership. Barry left for the mainland one day ahead of Claire in order to speak with Owen and then make haste to the region's archbishop. Karen and Barry reassured Claire that Victor Grady would be hard pressed to deny her inheritance. She rode into his stronghold with all her captains escorting her, except for Tanaka. He admitted his guilt in deceiving her and Owen Grady. He apologized profusely and offered to oversee the repairs to _Blue_ in her absence. Claire wished to avoid any ill will among her staff - knowing that Tanaka would be a significant ally in her new role - and forgave him without a second thought.

Owen watched Claire's arrival from one of the towers of the castle. He was hopeful about what would happen between them now. She rode astride upon the black stallion, Rex. She was dressed in chocolate brown hose, over which she wore high cordoba leather boots, and a tan, doeskin jacket. Beneath the jacket was a Lincoln green silk shirt with small pearl buttons. Her dazzling red hair was twisted into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Her pale skin a little flushed. Upon her right hand, he could see a blue flash and knew she wore the great sapphire ring that had been her father's seal of office. Owen's eyes fixed on her until she was out of sight and arrived at the stables. He descended from the tower and strode swiftly to the main hall of the castle. His father had told him he wanted him there when the Dearing swore her fealty, for she must swear it not only to the MacWilliam, but also to his heir. Owen was out of breath, not from exertion but anticipation. He knew the whole truth, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Much had changed in a short time, but they were free to be together. Before leaving once again, Barry encouraged his brother to temper his excitement. He warned him that Claire bore a great many burdens. All Owen could think about was helping her lessen them.

He arrived just in time to witness Claire kneeling with her captains at her back. It gave Owen great pleasure to see the regret in his father's eyes as they swept over her. Now, both father and son recognized Victor's grave mistake. The overlord avoided Owen's gaze and was focused on Claire. Placing her hands in the old, gnarled ones of the MacWilliam and then into his heir's warm, firm grasp, she twice swore her loyalty to the Gradys, then rose gracefully to accept their kiss of peace. Owen inhaled her unique scent and felt like he was in heaven. He pulled back so as not to draw attention to himself and noted the expressions of pride and adoration on the faces of the rough-looking captains behind her. Owen was reassured to know that she would sail with such devoted men but felt a twinge of jealousy. Fortunately, his gratitude in being near her once more overwhelmed all negative emotions. Claire was very formal. Her expression betrayed nothing. Owen yearned to be alone with her.

Victor suddenly clapped his hands together and declared, "We must speak privately." He looked toward Claire and then his son. "To my study." Owen motioned for Claire to walk in front of him. She merely nodded, and he enjoyed the view of her backside. Victor spoke firmly as soon as the three of them were alone. "I received a letter from Vivian Cruthers." Owen held back a gasp while Claire groaned. His father chuckled, "She claims that you deliberately crippled your husband, willfully deserted him, and stole his money."

"She's a lying, deceitful bitch," Claire answered bluntly. The MacWilliam grinned.

"All right, Dearing, what's your explanation?"

"I caught her and her brother, my husband, engaged in incest." Claire outlined the story, concluding with a shrug, "When I dodged him, he fell down a flight of stairs." Victor was clearly stunned and turned to his son, who looked unsurprised. The older man rolled his eyes and laughed to himself.

"Mistress Cruthers wrote that Lowery will never walk again."

Claire nodded and cleared her throat, "Under the circumstances, I no longer feel bound to him and am already pursuing an annulment." Victor shook his head and snorted. She looked hard at him as she added, "If you feel her charges have merit, my lord, I will abide by your decision."

The old man reached out and gently stroked Claire's beautiful hair. "There is no merit in her charges, Dearing," he said gruffly. "If she will not accept my decision in this matter, then I shall turn her over to the Church. They will deal with the wench far more harshly than you or I would." He smiled at Claire. "Now, lass, will you accept my hospitality for a few days' time? You've come through several hardships and you've a long road ahead of you."

She smiled back at him and replied, "I will accept your kindness, my lord, but only for a day. I am now laden with responsibilities. My father's entire fleet stands awaiting my orders, and they must remain idle until I have studied his books. It will be my half-brother, Zachary, who's most likely to become the next Dearing. He is but eight now. It will be at least eight more years before he can take over his duties. I need to show him as much as possible of the business and sailing, as Da did for me. And then, there is his younger brother, Gray-"

"Stop, lassie!" said the MacWilliam, cutting her off. "You're exhausting me. It's too much for a woman to take on, and I wonder at your father - God assoil him."

Claire looked at the old man proudly. "My father knew I would not fail him. He might have chosen any of my sister's husbands, but he chose me. I am the Dearing!" Then her look softened, and her eyes, which had been a deep, hunter green, lightened to a clear emerald. "Tonight, however, I shall be just Claire Dearing, and your most grateful guest." She turned without another word and walked out the room.

Victor addressed his son when the door was shut behind her, "Oh! That hair...that skin...those tits! Were I a younger man, I'd bed the lass myself!"

"Father," groaned Owen, impatient to follow after her and disgusted by the imagery.

"If you mean to have that one, you'd best tame her quickly. She is no milk-and-water wench but a full-blown woman! Once she gets the bit of power into her teeth, you'll not easily get a bridle on her. I envy you for this extraordinary woman you would have as a leman." Owen rolled his eyes, and Victor gave a sly smile. "You can maintain your noble bearing, after all. Her marriage will undoubtedly end in an annulment rather than murder." His laugh made his son's hair stand on end. "It seems my firstborn may have been useful for something." Owen opened his mouth to take his leave, but the MacWilliam raised his finger in the air. "There will be consequences."

"I still mean to make her my wife."

Victor guffawed, "I might allow it, but what of her? She looked cross with you, my boy."

Undeterred, Owen demanded confidently, "I want mother's claddagh."

The old man grinned wickedly. "If 'twill aid you in your wooing, you can have it. I imagine you'll need all the help you can get. She's a strong-minded woman." Owen grinned back as he strode from the hall and headed for Claire's chambers. His heart was singing. She was his! They would finally be together, and they would make marvelous love, and she would bear him strong sons and beautiful daughters, and they would be happy. He burst into her room and found her staring out the window on the opposite wall. She didn't move upon his entry. Didn't turn to look in his direction. Clearly, she expected him to come to her. Claire let out a great sigh. Her hands pressed into the windowsill.

Owen approached her slowly and almost silently. She could hear his faint footfalls and hoped he had an appreciation of her mood. It was difficult to remain still. She wanted to run to him all afternoon, but her body craved him more than her mind. Her mind was unsettled by varied thoughts. He placed a strong hand on her shoulder. Unbidden, she rolled her head to rub her cheek against his fingers. They both shuddered. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and it warmed her through and through.

"Have you bled?" Owen asked softly.

"Yes," answered Claire with mixed emotions.

"Good."

"What?" Claire abruptly turned to face him, yanking his hand away in the process.

"I want legitimate children with you."

"I'm still married."

"Barry's taking ca-"

"I wanted you to come for me." Her voice began to break. This was what she planned to say, but it was much harder in his presence. He looked in agony. She worried she would cave and not have the strength to say it all.

"The letter-"

"When did you think I had an opportunity to write it? You had no faith in me. You were easily duped."

"It wasn't the only thing. My father forbid-"

"I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"Love means taking risks. Putting someone else before yourself."

" _Droit du seigneur_ was a risk."

"It caused you some embarrassment, but you weren't beaten for it."

He gasped, "Lowery beat you?"

"Of course he did." She cooled when she saw the deepening hurt in his eyes. Then, it shifted and mixed with anger.

"This isn't a fairy tale or Tír na nÓg. I couldn't just show up in Gyrisfana Valley and spirit you away. I sent Barry as fast as I could, to protect you and gather useful information."

"Well, we got that," Claire scoffed. "You could've had Barry bring a letter. From you." She was close to breaking down. Her voice unsteady. "I appreciate what you did, of course. I just...just..." She didn't want to cry in front of him. Lord knew, she'd done it countless times privately since the morning she lost him. She'd cried the hardest when she saw the blood. It signified a broken tie. She looked down and leaned back against the wall.

"I want to marry you, Claire. That hasn't changed. Has it changed for you?" She hesitated, and he wanted to collapse. His own weight suddenly seemed too heavy for standing.

"I don't know, Owen. So much has happened, so quickly. You weren't there." She raised her head to look him in the eye. "I need time." Her eyes quickly snapped shut as she trembled. He bit his tongue. He was foolish for believing she'd want to pick up right where they left off. After all that had transpired since then. It broke his heart, but this was on him. He let her down and needed to prove his love for her.

"Forgive me. My joy at being reunited with you blinded me to your disparate feelings." He took a deep breath. "I should've gone to you." A great wave of sadness washed over him as two crystalline tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids and down her cheeks. He wanted to reach out, enfold her in his arms, comfort her, wipe away completely all the terrible hurt. The shocks and the loss. Instead, he stood with clenched fists and fought to maintain a rigid control on himself lest he overstep. He didn't want to risk losing her forever. "You are a marvel. I don't deserve you."

Finally, she spoke. "I love you, Owen."

"I know," he answered quietly, "and that is why I will wait."

"What?!" Her wet jewel eyes flew open.

"Yes, wait. I will be here, Claire, whenever you want me. Be it a month from now, or a year. Or ten years."

"You need an heir, Owen. Your father wants one so very much."

"You'll give me one someday."

"You're mad." A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Not mad, simply in love with a wild and sweet vixen who I wronged at a time of great vulnerability." Suddenly, she held out her hand to him. He grasped it tenderly, and a wonderful warm smile lit his face, crinkling his hazel eyes at the corners. "I have surely never known anything better worth waiting for than you." He bowed low over her slim hand, and his hot lips seemed to burn her skin like a brand. Then, straightening, he turned and left her chambers. Claire stood frozen, barely breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought about their reunion.


	10. Mannanan MacLir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story. This one & my ideas for (independent) _Fallen Kingdom_ -inspired fics have been battling for dominance in my brain ;)

The next morning, Claire thanked her overlord for his hospitality and, after a short ride to the coast, sailed home to Masrannessey Island. Within the month, word came to the MacWilliam that the transition from the old to the new Dearing had been made smoothly, and that the fleet was sailing once again. So, Owen Grady waited. He was confident that, when Claire was ready, they would be together. Forever. He'd caught her before she left the castle. Placed his mother's claddagh ring in Claire's palm and clasped her fingers around it. The promise needed no words. His intentions were as clear as her acceptance. He also couldn't speak, for fear of making himself a fool, breaking down, or both. It pained him to watch her at dinner the night before. Claire was the perfect dinner guest. She entertained his father with tales of the sea and laughed at all the old man's jokes. Owen caught Victor admiring her breasts, repeatedly. He was almost as riled up by his father as he was by Claire, but with a completely different context. At the end of the meal, she retired to her chambers without so much as a glance toward Owen. He'd never wanted to ravish her more. After she'd left them, the MacWilliam chided his heir for not doing just that. Owen gritted his teeth and kept his promise to give her time. He needed to give himself space from her or risk breaking that promise.

The small, prosperous trading empire of the Dearings grew more prosperous through Claire's skillful handling, and the MacWilliam was forced to admit that Simon Dearing had known exactly what he was doing when he had placed his daughter in charge. How she would behave in wartime was another matter, and he had yet to call upon her for that. Zachary and Grayson, at eight and six, had begun the process of learning about the sea, the ships, and their late father's half-legal, half-illegal methods of doing business. Zachary was assigned to _Charlotte_ , and Grayson went aboard _Rhône Delta_. Neither ship would ever be out when the other was also out, and occasionally the boys were at home at the same time, which gave Claire a chance to see her half-brothers working together, and to evaluate them as they grew. Each was a true Dearing, taking to the sea as to an old and respected friend. Claire wished her father could have seen them, for he would have been proud.

Six months after taking the reins of the Dearing fleet, Claire received word from Father Barry that the Church had granted her annulment from Lowery Cruthers. Barry had long ago returned to his diocese in France but wished her happiness. Prior to sharing the news with the household, Claire rode Rex out to the orchard where she and Owen had first kissed. She cherished the solitude to ruminate on her past, present, and future. Walking amongst the trees, she felt her body stirring in places that had been dormant for what seemed like much longer than half a year. She was starved for physical company but hadn't sought carnal delights with anyone. The temptation to contact Owen grew stronger with each passing day. Her resistance wasn't because she didn't love him. She firmly believed that he was the only man for her and always would be. But, Claire was no longer a girl whose only interest was her man and their babes. She likely never really was. She sighed as she rolled the claddagh between her fingers. It hung on a chain around her neck, close to her heart. Freshly granted an annulment, should she rush into marriage again? How would that appear to her sailors? Her half-brothers?

Wanting others' unconditional respect was why she chose not to wear the ring on her finger. She refused to give an impression that her decisions might be compromised by her romantic entanglement with their overlord. Claire knew, however, that was not the full truth. She was still smarting from Owen's lack of trust in her. She'd opened up to Karen once about it and immediately regretted her decision. Karen remained wracked with guilt over her role in the deception. She blamed herself for Claire and Owen's current distance. With a heavy heart, Claire returned to Dearing castle to re-engage with her stepmother about this sensitive topic.

Karen gasped and spoke in a hushed tone, "Expect a formal proposal from the MacWilliam on behalf of his son any day now." They were sitting in Karen's private salon, but Claire felt the walls were listening. She cringed at the thought of receiving that offer before she was ready. Father Barry had no doubt alerted Owen, and Victor's patience was likely wearing thin. Karen looked on her with profound confusion. "Don't you want a proposal?"

"Of course I do," Claire nearly shouted. Her temper was flaring. "But...I have terms."

"Beware," warned the older woman, "You swore fealty to them both."

"Let them beware also! I am Claire Dearing and not to be trifled with."

"Aye. They won't make that mistake again." Karen gave her a conspiratorial smile. She seemed more at peace compared to the last time the two women discussed the subject. Karen asked shrewdly, "What is it you want? Specifically?"

"My marriage must not affect my status as the Dearing, and neither must my husband or my father-in-law interfere with that. The responsibility for the clan remains mine until I see fit to pass it on to one of my brothers. Da wanted it that way. I will not have the Gradys dabbling greedy fingers into the Dearing coffers or meddling in my business affairs! I will come to them with a dowry worthy of a princess, but that is all they will receive." Her stepmother nodded.

"You're wise and ruthless, but I don't know if the MacWilliam will swallow such a bitter pill. He's a sly old man."

"If he thinks he can outsmart me," Claire scoffed, "Victor Grady has another thing coming." Her posture stiffened. "He seeks me for his son not for my bonnie green eyes or pretty tits. He sees our ships, but they are not mine to give. They belong to Zachary and Grayson, and I will not cheat my father's sons out of their inheritance. I can offer that wicked old man a bigger dowry than any of the aristocratic wenches of Ireland."

Karen giggled, "I envy your bold spirit." Her face abruptly darkened. "What of your heart, Claire? I haven't forgotten Simon's last words." Claire bit her lip to prevent it from quivering. Karen had always envied the bond that Simon had with his youngest daughter. At death's door, he still placed Claire above his wife.

"Da truly loved you, Karen, more so than my mother." The other woman didn't stop her quivering lip and began to cry.

"Owen Grady loves you, Claire." The new Dearing chief's insecurities were embarrassingly obvious.

Claire stifled a groan and responded in a deadly serious tone, "That is what I must know. The last time, he accepted his father's will too easily and didn't fight for me. Now, he must battle the MacWilliam to prove his love."

"And if Victor refuses your terms?"

"He won't." Claire swallowed hard. "If he does, then Owen would wed with me anyway if he really loves me." Karen nodded and took a stuttering breath. Claire hugged her and whispered, "No more tears for Owen and I. Please. I've shed enough for us all."

"Don't let the MacWilliam know that," Karen teased. "'Tis best he believe you to be cold and calculating." Claire laughed with an exuberance she hadn't felt in a long time. A weight seemed to have lifted, and she allowed herself to daydream again.

The MacWilliam roared with outrage upon receipt of Claire's letter. He tossed it to Owen for his perusal. The young man's eyes popped wide with delight, and his father snorted. Claire was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Not only did she buck tradition by writing Victor a request for marriage with his heir - it should have been the other way around - but she demanded that, in marriage with Lord Grady, she was to remain the Dearing and retain complete control of the trading empire. Owen was beside himself with excitement. Time was up. She was ready to be his wife. Recognizing his son's jubilation, Victor snarled, "The O'Donnells have a fine lass ripe for marriage."

"The devil take her," exclaimed Owen. "'Tis Claire I want, and Claire I'll have - even if I must slit your scrawny throat!"

The MacWilliam looked at his son with an injured air. "If you're that hot for her, then you might as well have her. I hope you'll quickly breed me several grandsons before much more time has passed. I am not growing any younger." Owen grinned, thinking about the activities required for breeding. "Go to her, boy. I don't want to see your smug face around this castle." His father smirked. There was a warmth and wistfulness to his expression the likes of which Owen had never seen. It gave him pause. Victor eventually relented, "Your mother would be pleased with us both."

"Thank you, father."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," said the MacWilliam with a belly-jiggling laugh. "Your woman has been free of men's demands for some time now. She'll require taming."

"I'd never dream of that. I'll always take Claire as she is."

"May God preserve you then." The older man shook his head as Owen bowed low and practically ran out of the study.

Lord Grady arrived unannounced to Masrannessey Island and was directed to the cloisters to find Claire. For a few minutes, he stood in the shadow of an archway to watch her. He hadn't seen her in a moment of leisure since the day they met on _Charlotte_ 's deck. Although barefoot, she was otherwise dressed in the Irish fashion, wearing a bright red skirt of soft, lightweight wool. Her blouse was of fine linen, as white as many washings could make it. The sleeves were short, and it was deep-necked, revealing her breasts when she bent to inhale the sweet fragrances of the rose bushes encircling the central fountain. Her fiery hair was loose and billowed softly about her shoulders in the light breeze. A giant hound walked slowly by her side. She was lovelier than he had remembered, and his blood quickened when he thought of this exquisite woman as his wife. He let his eyes feast on her. Her slim figure moved with such grace. It gave him pleasure just to watch her. When he finally stepped out of the archway, the wolfhound stiffened, his hackles rising before he growled low in warning.

"I'm glad to see you so well guarded, Claire." Her porcelain skin flushed at his approach, and she was fixed in place. He hoped his face conveyed his deep affection for her.

"Put your hand out," she answered softly, "so Dom may get your scent." She patted the dog. "Friend, Dom. Owen is a friend." The overlord suffered himself to be thoroughly sniffed and to be marked with that particular term of endearment. He patted the animal, speaking reassuringly to him, receiving first a long searching look from the liquid amber eyes, and then finally a wet, cold nose pushed into his palm. "He likes you!" Claire cried with glee.

"And if he hadn't?"

"You might have had difficulty claiming your rights as a husband, my lord." She gave him a mischievous smile. She sobered suddenly, and so did he. When he held out his arms to her, she walked into them without a moment's hesitation. His arms closed securely about her, and she stood quietly listening to the rapid beat of his heart just beneath her cheek.

After what seemed a blissful eternity, Owen quipped, "I accept your proposal." She cleared her throat to subdue her nervousness.

"Does your father?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes." Owen almost purred at her body's involuntary response. She melted into him. "Oh, Claire, I'd be here regardless. I wouldn't have missed this." She recognized a crack in his voice as he stroked her hair. "Was it a test?"

"For both of us. I risk much for what I want." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "I want it all Owen. You and the family business."

"You shall have it." He was repeating words that he first spoke on her wedding night. It seemed a lifetime ago, but his promise had been burned into her memory. His eyes flashed with recognition of it. Claire closed her eyes as he cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her. They were interrupted a moment before their lips met.

"Mistress Claire!" shouted her maid, Peigi. "You must come to port immediately." Peigi paused to catch her breath.

The Dearing traversed the space between them and asked, "What's happened?"

"Barbary pirates have taken command of _Charlotte_ with Zachary and Grayson aboard."

"What?" Claire shouted. "Why were they out together?"

"I can't answer that." Peigi was cowering in fear. Her mistress had never before raised her voice like that. "You'll have to ask Tanaka." Owen stilled at the name. Claire took his hand and squeezed it.

She turned to him and said reassuringly, "He's loyal...to a fault." Addressing Peigi once again, she asked sternly, "Where is Zara? Grayson was in her charge."

"At the port, I suspect. She fancies a young sailor, name of Alec." Peigi's disdain slipped through her panic. Claire rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

"Why did Tanaka not come here himself?" demanded Claire.

"He's interrogating sailors, including Alec." Peigi's hands shook as she pulled a parchment out of her apron. "Here's the ransom note." The maid curtsied and swiftly left the cloisters. Claire focused intensely on the missive. Owen resisted the impulse to lean over her shoulder to read it. He needed to defer to her, as the Dearing, and they were not yet wed. She sighed as she finished reading and looked at Owen.

"They seek retribution," she announced sadly. "My father supposedly pillaged their treasure on an island in the Azores. They want both the treasure and _Deep Blue Sea_ in exchange for _Charlotte_ and the boys." She took a deep breath. "I'm to meet them on the southern margin of Corvo, or they'll sell the boys into slavery."

Owen radiated with anger and could think only of protecting Claire. He blurted out, "If the boys are gone, the trading empire is fully yours." She blinked rapidly and was stunned. It was short-lived, however, and her eyes slitted with suspicion.

"You mean, yours," she spat. It was Owen's turn to be stunned.

"What?" he stammered. "No no, that's not at all what I mean. How could you think that about me?" They were posturing at each other. Their bodies tense and ready to attack, if necessary.

"How could YOU think that I would abandon my half-brothers?"

"Because their mother wrote that letter to me." He could not conceal his bitterness. 

"At my father’s request." Claire stepped back from him to calm herself. They were at an impasse. She wouldn't get very far trying to argue this aspect. Owen clearly harbored significant ill will against Karen, and it was clouding his judgment. At least, she hoped this was the reason that he suggested the boys become slaves. Claire changed her tactic. "What about _Charlotte_? Your mother's namesake ship?" Owen clenched his jaw. "I have to fight for my fleet. I cannot allow a precedent to be set. If I don't act, the empire will constantly be challenged. They won't get away with this." Claire started to walk out of the cloisters, but Owen grasped her hand and tugged her back to face him.

"I'm coming with you to Corvo," he said firmly. He wasn't asking. He was telling her. Several different emotions crossed her features. She was breathing hard. Owen's heart was pounding. He was worried for her but also very aroused. Had they not just been arguing, he would've pulled her into his arms for a searing kiss. Her mouth opened slightly, and her tongue darted out to run over her bottom lip. It might've been unconscious, but maybe she was having similar thoughts. Claire shook her head slightly.

"Of course," she said through a stony expression. "Your help would be vital." Outside of feeling like he'd been drenched with icy water, Owen was relieved that she didn't fight him on this point. They both knew that his naval experience shouldn't be minimized, as it could give them a significant advantage. More importantly, however, there was no way she was putting herself in danger this way without him. He gave her a lopsided grin and thrilled at the thought of them working together as a team. The way she smiled back warmed him to the core.


	11. Immram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter refers to Irish tales of "voyage." Thanks for reading and taking this journey with me :)

"I suspect foul play," Captain Tanaka proclaimed with more seriousness than Claire had ever witnessed from him. His exterior cracked with uncertainty and concern that was also new to her. Tanaka had a reputation for being unflappable and stern. She met with him privately inside the Captain's quarters on _Blue_ while Owen stood guard outside. Tanaka had already verbalized his preference that Lord Grady remain on the docks. Simon's most loyal captain expressed doubt that the boys' abduction was coincidental with the MacWilliam's heir appearing unannounced on Masrannessey. Claire, on the other hand, had faith that Owen wasn't involved.

"Lord Grady isn't part of this," she said, slamming a fist on the desk. Tanaka eyed her with obvious disbelief. She waggled a finger at him. "And don't you dare say anything about women or hearts or weakness! You know me Tanaka." She stood her ground, unblinking.

"Aye, that I do," he sighed in defeat and shrugged. "If ye trust him, then so will I. Far be it for me to refuse assistance from Captain Marauder on a rescue mission at sea."

"I wouldn't discount his father, however." Claire fumed at Tanaka, knowing full well that he understood her anger toward the old man. "I'll send Siobhan's husband, Ewan, to the Grady stronghold to alert our overlord. Now, tell me everything you remember about this pillaged ship."

"We didn't pillage it in the Azores," Tanaka explained before adding scornfully, "if that's even its origin." The captain related that, nigh a year ago, Simon discovered a ship in the well-hidden cove beneath the lighthouse on Masrannessey. The ship was full of dead men. Claire's father had believed that the erratic tidal currents around the end of the island drove the vessel ashore. It was floating half-beached in the cove. The distinctive pieces of jewelry requested in the ransom note had been part of the booty taken from the ship's holds.

"Christ's bones!" the current Dearing nearly shouted. "My father authorized ransacking a ghost ship? The crew might've been carrying the plague! Was he mad?"

"They didn't die of plague," answered Tanaka calmly. "Yer father secreted Henry to the cove to determine what had killed them. The healer believed that it was likely a passing sickness brought aboard by some shipwreck victims they rescued." Claire's mind swirled with questions.

"What of the ship's origins?"

"This ship was of English design, yet the bodies appeared to be Arab or Moorish. The log was written in a foreign scrawl that neither Simon nor I could interpret. We wagered they was Barbary pirates and claimed what we could for salvage."

"Where is the ship and its log now?"

"The ship and its men lie at the the bottom of the sea. Simon burned the log."

"Damnit! How could he destroy that?"

"'Twas a bad-luck ship, Claire, and had blown far off course. The likelihood that anyone would know where to come lookin' for it was verra low. You know sailors are a superstitious lot."

Claire sniggered, "Aye, now Mannanan MacLir's curse visits upon us." Tanaka stilled at her invoking the name of the ancient Irish sea god. Even the most devoutly Catholic sailors in the fleet made verbal obeisance to the pagan deity before each voyage. "A bad-luck ship, and yet my father gave some of its spoils as baubles to Karen and added a bit to my own dowry." She shook her head in incredulity. Her stepmother was profoundly enamored of the unique diamond and sapphire ring shaped like a bird with its matching earbobs and hair ornament. Claire had never worn the decadent collection of rubies set in gold but remembered the day that Da had given the stunning set to her. "Foul play or not," she stated sadly, "we suffer the consequences of my father's arrogance."

"It IS foul play, mistress!" Tanaka was trembling. "Only a small band knew of the ghost ship and fewer still could describe specifics of its booty. Simon swore us all to secrecy." He paused to calm himself and clear his throat. "I'm not certain that the men who captured _Charlotte_ were Barbary." Claire motioned for him to explain. "Captain Craig was sent back to Dearing Bay by rowboat with the ransom note. He said that the ships that overtook them bore no flags or other markings. The wax seal on the ransom note was similarly generic. The crew was turbaned but communicated only in whistles and hand signals." Claire rolled her eyes. She knew that her father's crews used this very trick in their own pirating. Alarm was building in her chest. They likely had traitors in their midst. She bit her tongue to prevent a slew of curses from escaping her lips. Claire had hoped that her authority and father's deathbed wishes - not to mention his own sons - would be respected by his crews. She thought that her years on the ships had engendered the support of those men when she took command of the trading empire. Perhaps she was naïve to trust them. To believe that they would follow a woman. She suddenly wanted comfort. She wanted Owen. She felt weak for that but didn't care in the moment. This was too much for her to bear. Too many losses.

She asked with a heavy heart, "How did Grayson end up on _Charlotte_?"

"Zara suddenly felt very ill, and Alec took her back to the castle. Grayson had been runnin' about wi' Zachary on the gangway. That's all I know. Captain Craig said he wasn't aware of the little lad's presence until the pirates placed both boys in the hold."

"Has Grayson ever tried to sneak onto a ship before?"

"Not to my knowledge, but he is only six and apt to play games." Despite their being two young boys, Claire saw it as out of character for either of them to disobey her rules. Zachary was quite territorial about _Charlotte_ and often flaunted his age over Grayson. They were both intelligent and excelled at problem-solving, but the older boy had a cruel streak while Grayson was more sensitive. Claire had told Karen about their abduction before heading down to the port, and their mother vacillated between sobs of helplessness and blinding rage at Zara. If not for her enduring sympathy about Lowery's mistreatment of the maid, Karen likely would've thrown her into the sea. As things stood, Claire suspected that Zara would be cast out of Masrannessey.

"We have to leave for Corvo tonight," Claire said firmly. "Assemble the most trustworthy sailors but leave one faithful captain to watch the port. Captain Craig will remain locked in the hold, until it is proven that he's not an accomplice. _Blue_ will be flanked by _Echo_ and _Delta_. We'll take no chances with lesser ships." Tanaka nodded and took his leave. He almost knocked into Owen on his way out of the cabin.

Lord Grady had been stewing on the staircase. He wondered if Claire trusted him. He admitted that the timing of his arrival appeared too convenient. He resolved to prove his commitment to her by way of complete deference. She was the Dearing, and he would not interfere with that, now or ever. Easier said than done. He was a master sailor and decorated officer. It would be difficult to take orders, especially when they were coming from the person he loved and was driven to keep safe.

"Owen," she called from inside the stateroom. Her voice was soft and pleading. His feet couldn't carry him quickly enough to her side. He shut the door behind him and found her wringing her hands. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she whispered, "Kiss me." This was an order he'd gladly obey. Owen pulled her into his arms and brought his mouth soundly down to hers. It seemed like years since he'd last felt her luscious lips against his own. It was like their first kiss all over again. The sensation sent a shudder through his bones and evoked a fierce awareness from his groin. As their lips explored the familiar territory so long denied, he wondered if he could stop at a kiss. Impossibly, his desire for her eclipsed all previous levels. His hands fisted into her shirt while hers tangled into his hair. His fingers then moved to tenderly caress her upturned face. He opened his eyes at the wetness of tears slipping slowly down her cheeks. Gently, he brushed them away. Owen could see that she was trembling with emotion and exhaustion. She was not ready to make love with him. He savored their kiss and gave himself over to what she requested of him in this moment. He bruised her lips with his own. Claire's arms slid around his neck and pulled him as close to her as was humanly possible. The pent-up ardor exploded in a wave of fire that, had it had substance, would have ignited the ship and consumed all of the port with it. Her softly taunting tongue licked at his lips, which he promptly parted to allow that tongue to enter his mouth to tease and caress. Chasing her tongue back to her own mouth, Owen proceeded to harry and badger it with his own until she pulled her head away, moaning as a great shudder raced through her own beautiful body. He smiled as he looked down on her face. The smile reflected his deep appreciation of the woman she was and what they could be together. He was never letting go of her again.

Claire clung to him and buried her face in his chest. Her trembling ceased as she pulled herself together. She took a deep breath and told him, "We'll leave tonight. I need to return to the castle for my sea clothes and the jewelry. I also need to compose a message to your father." Owen simply nodded and ran a hand over her hair. She felt loved. This was more than enough for now. She needed her wits about her for the journey ahead. A quiet voice in her head questioned whether they'd live long enough to explore each other's bodies again. No, she pushed the thought away. She must be positive and hopeful. The fate of her brothers and the entire empire rested on her like never before. She could do this. As she moved out of Owen's arms, he captured her lips with his own again for a split second. She squeaked her surprise at the contact and its brevity.

"Sorry," he said with a blush, "you still make me lose my head."

She laughed warmly and teased, "I was otherwise impressed by your self-control." He squeezed her hand, and she marveled at him. At his devotion. They could most definitely take on these pirates - and many more of life's challenges - together.

Within a few hours, they were back on _Blue's_ deck. Claire cut an impressive figure as she oversaw her crew preparing to disembark. Owen had never seen her in her sea clothes. She wore a double-legged skirt of her own design, a silk shirt layered with a thigh-length doeskin doublet with staghorn and silver buttons, the Cordoba leather boots she'd worn to Grady castle, and a wide belt with a silver and topaz buckle. At her hip was a sword of fine Toledo steel with a gold-and-silver-filigreed handle. Had she not shown him that bit of vulnerability earlier in the afternoon, Owen would've been genuinely frightened of the Amazon who commanded this small fleet.

She was amazingly competent and highly knowledgeable in areas of which he had a similar understanding. The men about her did her bidding unquestioningly, and listened to her with open respect. Fortunately, Owen Grady had a sense of humor, and he quickly realized he was going to need it. Though he shared the captain's quarters with her, he slept alone in a single bunk in a small side cabin with the wolfhound Dom as his companion. The great dog had attached himself to Owen with a fierce bond that delighted Claire, for Dom had hated Lowery. Lord Grady amused himself by training the dog. The beast was intelligent but lacked manners. The task distracted Owen from his exclusion from their mission's planning sessions. He understood why Claire excluded him, but it still hurt his pride.

Present for those sessions were Tanaka, who served as captain of _Rhône Delta_ , and Captain Hamada, who led the crew of _Echo of the Wind_. The three of them strategized how to minimize losses in the face of great uncertainty at Corvo. The _Island of the Crow_ was the smallest and northernmost island in the Azores archipelago. It had no permanent settlement, and sheer cliffs dominated the coastal areas. The southern margin, by contrast, was composed of ancient lava flows from the island's dormant, central volcano. The island of Flores was plainly visible across the channel and frequented by English, Spanish, and Portuguese ships. The supposed Barbary pirates would subsequently be hard-pressed to engage the Dearing ships in open combat in that same channel.

Owen spent the evenings alone with Claire, wherein she conferred with him about the plans and heard his feedback. He knew she valued his opinions and took them to heart. She would not, however, share her bed with him. "I am not a passenger on this voyage," she told him. "If I were needed in the night, and we..." Her green eyes twinkled, and he laughed in spite of his disappointment. To reward his patience, she flung herself into his arms one night and kissed him ardently, her soft breasts pressing provocatively against his pounding heart, her little tongue darting teasingly about his mouth. Owen pushed her back, and kicking her legs from beneath her, they fell to the big captain's bed. Claire felt her shirt buttons opening as if by magic, and his mouth burned into the soft flesh of her breasts, nuzzling against a suddenly hard nipple, sucking until the throb between her legs was almost unbearable. When he abruptly lifted his head, his warm honey eyes stared down at her with tolerant amusement.

"You're captain of this ship, Claire, but I will, if you don't mind, be captain in our bedchamber. If you tease me like that again, I'll have you on your back before you can say 'Sail ho!' Do you understand me, darling?"

"Aye, Captain," she answered, and he was flattered to see the admiration in her eyes.

The weather remained miraculously fair as _Blue_ and her sister ships traveled southward. There was little to do on the voyage, so Claire spent a good deal of time pacing restlessly about the decks or leaning over the bow rail staring hard ahead into the endless horizon. Owen wanted to be openly affectionate towards her but knew she wouldn't have it. He was in awe of her strength. Weaker women would've been driven mad by the strain she bore. Not Claire. She was stronger even than the fine vessels commissioned by his father. All three were sleek and built for speed as well as cargo. Each one was well armed in order to defend itself, and - as a trio - they were a powerful weapon, particularly since they had added more cannon as they were carrying very limited cargo this trip. Owen hoped the extra cannon wasn't necessary, especially since they'd possibly be aiming for his mother's namesake ship.

Something about Captain Craig's story didn't sit well with him. He needed more information but was short on time. They were on course to reach Corvo by the following afternoon. With Dom close at his side, Owen walked along the port-side to think. Craig had been at sea when Simon found the ghost ship. Only one man from the small group who helped unload the bad-luck ship was on the manifest for _Charlotte's_ current voyage, so Claire and her captains suspected that man - Patrick Crowley - to be the traitor. Owen admitted that Crowley was the most likely candidate but refused to believe that one man acted alone to betray her. He boldly pressed the issue when he bumped into Claire and Tanaka as they surveyed _Blue_ 's upper deck.

"I want to speak with Captain Craig," Owen announced unwaveringly. He tired of sitting idly by and being unable to use his well-honed military skills.

Tanaka responded brusquely, "He's been questioned. He knows nothing about the ghost ship, its spoils or the content of the ransom note. I can tell when a man is lying. I assure you that Craig is not."

"Maybe you haven't been asking the right questions." Owen was getting agitated. Claire surmised that his balled fists and battle stance were likely unconscious. It sent a thrill down her spine while, at the same time, his open challenge to her senior captain prickled her skin.

"Do you disagree with our interrogation methods?" she interjected. Owen turned towards her and softened, but only slightly.

"Craig may require firmer handling." Claire's eyes popped so wide, it was a wonder they stayed in her head. She held back a gasp and felt her own body adopting a battle stance. Tanaka whistled in surprise and stepped back from them. Even Dom whimpered and stood, as if unsure - his head toggling wildly between his beloved mistress and his new master.

"No one will be abused or tortured on my ships," Claire spat. "Especially when there's no evidence that he was a party to the plot."

"There's no evidence that he wasn't," Owen roared back at her. His gaze sharpened. "It's why you keep him locked up in the hold and didn't leave him to his own devices in port."

"Do you disagree with that decision as well?"

"Of course not! Keep your enemies close." He glared at her with a quirked brow, daring her to parry his thrust. She was thrown off balance and asking the wrong questions aloud. Claire knew he agreed with making Captain Craig an unofficial prisoner on _Blue_. They'd discussed it, and Owen had praised her decision. What had gotten into him? And why was it making her so hot? She should be appalled by his blatant impertinence, but it stirred her desire for him. Her eyes drifted to his sensuous mouth and further down to his heaving chest. She suddenly wanted to twirl with her fingers the hairs visible at his shirt's v-neck opening. Tanaka slipped away to return to _Delta_ , but Claire barely noticed. She was focused on calming her involuntary responses and libidinous thoughts. She felt at war with herself. For not the first time on the voyage, she questioned the wisdom of not taking Owen to her bed. She was the one who could benefit from his firm handling. Moving her gaze back to his eyes, she could see that they'd darkened. His fire had clearly been stoked as well.

They were both brought back to reality by Dom's sudden, pained barking. Their bodies relaxed as their heads turned toward the confused beast. Claire swallowed hard before kneeling to pet Dom's head and smooth his ruffled coat.

"It's all right," she said soothingly. "We're all right. Dinna fash." Owen knelt down and placed his hand over hers on the dog's back. She didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I worry." _For you_. Those final two words went unspoken, but the sentiment was obvious. As obvious as the anxiety he'd seen growing on her face throughout their voyage.

Later that evening, they had an almost silent dinner in her quarters. They avoided each other's eyes and picked at the food more than they ate it. Claire eventually let out a great sigh and asked, "Can you hold me tonight?" His eyebrows went up as his heart raced.

"Yes," was Owen's simple reply. Nothing more. Just yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter sufficiently whet your appetite for "action" yet to come...


	12. Sabotáiste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are tougher for me because I don't usually write action/adventure, but I'm making good on this story's title - I hope it works!

Owen inhaled deeply upon awakening. Claire had rolled into his body during the night. Her cheek rested against his chest, and one hand pressed into his shoulder. Her other hand was perilously close to the tented fabric covering his groin. He half-wondered if he was still dreaming. Not wanting to be a "tease" the night before, Claire hadn't so much as kissed him when she snuggled into his arms with her back against him. He had to admit that her formless, near burlap-textured nightgown was deterrent enough. Not to mention the fact that she'd given him her father's nightshirt to wear as they slept.

Nothing seemed to be getting in the way of Owen's arousal this morning, however. She smelled and felt amazing, exactly the same as their previous night together. It may have only been one night, but it had sustained his intense longing for her. Its memory remained fresh. Being robbed of waking up together the next morning was the greatest insult of his life. Her fingers tensed as she began to stir. Owen squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath when she grazed his erection. Claire hummed in satisfaction as she opened her eyes.

"I know you're awake," she smirked. "Don't pretend." He pulled away slightly to bring their faces to level and escape her innocently roving hand. He planted gentle kisses on her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.

"I've dreamed of this moment since _droit du seigneur,_ " he whispered.

"Are you taking your turn to tease me, my captain?" She gazed at him adoringly. He blushed faintly in response as he caressed her cheek.

"No," he answered with bated breath. He stopped her hand from reaching down his body and shook his head. "The next time we make love, I don't want to rush. I want to spend several days and nights together." He rested his forehead against hers. "Without interruption." Her own breath hitched.

"I'd like that," Claire purred. Just as she brought her lips to his, they heard a clattering outside the door, and Dom's loud bark pierced the air. They groaned in unison. When Claire started to sit up in the bed, Owen pulled her back into his chest. He enveloped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. She giggled with delight.

"You won't let me do this on deck, Captain," he said huskily, "so I have to take my chances down here." A contented sigh escaped her lips. She was deeply appreciative of his discretion around her crew, especially because she struggled mightily to contain her own impulses around him.

"I love you, Owen." His subsequent shudder gratified her like nothing else. Before responding verbally, his hands moved to her neck. Claire felt close to losing her remaining willpower until she realized what he was doing. Then, her heart beat wildly. His fingers hooked around the chain at her neck, seeking its clasp. She was nearly panting when he pulled it up and out from beneath her nightgown. He dropped the ring gently into the palm of his hand and met her eyes.

"This ring," he said quietly, "has been the betrothal ring of the men in my family for generations. It's as old as Grady castle itself. My father gave it to my mother and no one else. I want you to wear this ring today and every day after, Claire Dearing." Unable to speak, she simply nodded. Gently, Owen slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger of her left hand and added, "I need not tell you that with it goes my everlasting love and my fidelity, for all time." Words still eluded her. I am loved, she thought. But there was also fear. Dear God, she prayed silently, don't take him away from me today. As if she had uttered the words aloud, Owen understood her feelings. Bending, he tenderly touched her mouth with his, then murmured softly, "I will always be here for you, macushla. Always!" There were quick tears sparkling like diamonds in her emerald eyes. He had never felt so blessed. She wrapped her arms around him, and he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Dom barked again as footsteps approached the door. "Captain," came a loud cry, "Corvo just appeared on the horizon." Claire stilled in Owen's arms. Neither were quite ready for what the day could bring. There was no way to prepare entirely. Too many variables. Too much remained unknowable. He couldn't pretend to sleep or otherwise hide from his own fear. He resolved to be strong for her. For them both.

Claire dressed quickly and styled her hair into a single braid. Owen and Dom were close behind her as she ascended to the top deck. A sailor in the crow's nest pointed his spyglass toward the cliffs of the not-so-distant island. "I see something glintin' up top," he shouted down to his captain. "On such a clear day, they surely spotted us." He was right. Not a cloud in the sky. It was a gorgeous day at sea, and Claire hoped this was a good omen. There were no ships visible, but it wasn't surprising from their current vantage point.

"Wide to port," Claire called to her first mate at the helm. "I want a full view of the channel and Flores as we swing 'round." She paced the deck and anxiously tapped her nails on the glimmering hilt of her sword. Likely sensing her distress, Dom padded alongside of her. Owen's gaze drifted to the sister ships moving into formation, flanking _Blue_ as he knew Claire had planned. He couldn't help feeling uneasy about their limited intel from Captain Craig. Two pirate ships had supposedly pinned _Charlotte_ in the North Atlantic. It was an unbelievably northern reach for Barbary pirates. _Charlotte_ was bound for the Isle of Lundy off the eastern coast of England, so she had not been loaded for defense - only cargo - on the relatively short journey. Although the vessel was ripe for attack, Claire did not believe that their English trading partner on Lundy, Lord de Marisco, would've targeted the ship. The English seemed to be perpetually at odds with the Irish, but Owen knew Adam de Marisco to be lecherous not political. Claire had laughed when she related that the Lord of Lundy once propositioned her. Owen had not been amused but didn't want to suspect the other man out of jealousy.

Whilst ruminating on that jealousy, Owen didn't immediately realize that Claire had come to stand next to him at the ship's stern.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked with a forced smile. His jaw was clenched tightly but relaxed when she spoke.

"The lusty Lord of Lundy," replied Owen, his bitterness poorly concealed.

"I don't think he'd betray us." She chuckled. "Even in retaliation...for not getting what he desired." Her smile was now mischievous.

"It's not funny, Claire." He scooped up her left hand and ran his finger over the newly placed ring. "You should've been wearing this."

"Owen." Her voice was tinged with warning. She didn't feel the need to justify why she hadn't worn the ring until today. "Adam's harmless and already a wealthy man. Sometimes, he just prefers other forms of payment."

"Were you attracted to him?"

"What does it matter?" Owen's jaw clenched again, and he slammed his fists on the railing of the ship. Her brows knitted. "I wouldn't take a lover. That's too risky."

He scoffed, "So, you would've otherwise?" Claire was starting to get riled up. She didn't need tensions rising higher than they were already.

"Have you lain with any other maiden since my wedding night?" Owen froze, and Claire interpreted an answer she didn't like. "Forget I asked. I don't want to know." Dom whimpered as she started to walk away, but Owen caught her hand.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I have no right to be jealous. I know why you didn't wear it."

"I'm wearing it now," she whispered and squeezed his hand. He could feel her pulse pounding in her wrist. She was nervous, and his behavior wasn't helping the situation. He wanted to tell her that he was scared of losing her again. That he couldn't bear the thought. But, he knew such an admission wouldn't help things either. Owen just ran his thumb over her knuckles and smiled warmly. She could probably see his own nerves, regardless. When she let go of him, it gave him an icy chill. He felt helpless.

As the Dearing ships rounded Corvo, they saw _Charlotte_ floating alone about one mile off the island's southern coast. Her anchor had been dropped, her sails were down, and there were no signs of life on her top deck. Claire signaled for their small fleet to halt, so Tanaka and Hamada could come aboard to strategize. Owen surveyed the cluster of ships in the distance - motionless and close to the northern port on Flores.

"It's a trap!" Owen exclaimed without forethought as he not so subtlely barged into the captains' discussion. Hamada gave him a nasty look that communicated "back off." Claire whirled around to glare at Owen in a similar way. Tanaka simply rolled his eyes.

"Yes," grumbled Claire, stopping short of a patronizing tone. "But we don't know to what end. _Charlotte_ 's cannons are drawn in."

"Get Craig up here," Owen was close to shouting. He pointed toward Flores. "See if he can identify any of those ships." Claire's eyes went wide, and Owen gritted his teeth. He was overstepping, but he didn't care in the moment. He thought only of their safety. Especially Claire's.

She addressed Hamada, "Retrieve Craig." Then, she turned toward Owen with more anger than he'd ever witnessed from her. "You are not in control here. Stand down." Tanaka put a hand on Lord Grady's shoulder and gently nudged him backwards. Owen bit his tongue and took a few steps away, pulling out of Tanaka's hold. Claire turned in the direction where Hamada had gone. Moments later, Captain Craig - hands tied behind his back - appeared before them. A look of alarm flashed across his face when he locked eyes with the MacWilliam's heir. The moment passed quickly, and Owen wasn't sure that anyone else noticed it. He was warier than ever.

"Do you recognize any of those ships?" Claire asked her prisoner pointedly.

"Yes," Craig replied hoarsely. "The Portuguese galleon was one of the pirates' vessels. It didn't bear that flag when she took us. None of the other ships are familiar to me." He gave a sideways glance and a sly smile to Owen, who remained silent. Claire avoided Owen's gaze.

"Take him back down below," she ordered. When Hamada returned, she finally made eye contact with Owen. Her mouth was drawn into a tight line. Her heart raced. Her eyes brimmed with emotion. "Lord Grady will stay with _Blue_ at this position to watch the Portuguese galleon and engage as necessary." She paused to swallow hard. "I will lead _Delta_ and _Echo_ to pinion _Charlotte_." Owen stared blankly at her and nodded. Was he angry? Contrite? It probably wasn't one or the other. She was filled with mixed emotions herself. She suddenly wished he hadn't come. His presence and behaviors were throwing her off. She didn't feel in the best condition to problem-solve but had enough mental wherewithal to keep him safe and still useful to her. Claire took a deep breath and passed Owen a ring of keys. "I trust you," she said under her breath.

Owen watched her leave with Hamada to board _Echo_. His heart contracted painfully. What he planned to do would not make her happy, but he had to take his chance - similar to what he'd done that morning in her quarters. As soon as _Delta_ and _Echo_ started to pull away, Owen raced down to the hold. Only the three captains had visited Craig and provided his rations during their voyage. Claire intended to limited his contact with others and prevent any foul play. It only took Owen three key attempts to open the door. Craig appeared relieved when Lord Grady first entered the storeroom that contained the ship's cell. Then, they stared each other down suspiciously. It took every ounce of Owen's self-control not to lash out at the other man. Craig eventually broke the silence with a maniacal laugh that made Owen's hairs stand on end.

"I had a fright when I first saw you, my lord," cackled Craig. "Until the truth became clear to me. 'Twas not the Dearing wench but the Gradys behind the sabotage." He laughed again while Owen fought to maintain his stony expression. This was easier than he thought it would be but still highly unnerving. "Well played, Captain Marauder, especially gettin' the fair captain to wear your ring today." Craig chuckled viciously. "I knew she wasn't ruthless enough to hatch this plan."

"Have you been comfortable?" Owen asked flatly. He could barely contain his rage but played along to gain more information.

"Aye, she's a good woman. You're verra lucky." Craig licked his lips salaciously, and Lord Grady wanted to vomit. "Clever usin' the Dearings' own healer. Will he go to the MacWilliam's castle now?" _Henry_ \- of course, thought Owen. Henry knew all about the ghost ship and likely poisoned Zara on the day of the kidnapping.

Owen nodded and replied, "My family rewards those loyal to us." This elicited a devious grin from the other man.

"I still canna believe you'd destroy your mother's namesake ship, but a brilliant way to avoid suspicion! I'm sure her replacement will be an even finer ship for me to command." Owen almost swore out loud. He needed to warn Claire. His mind was swirling. His vision blurred. Unable to subdue his ire any longer, Owen reached into the cell and firmly held Craig by the neck.

"Why did you think that the Dearing planned the sabotage?" demanded Owen.

Craig squirmed and sputtered, "The...the...healer." His eyes wide with confusion, the captive man started to sweat. "Plus, Master Wu told me...the pirates won't harm her but won't hesitate to kill any man who steps aboard. He m-m-meant to warn me against returning to _Charlotte_."

"Are the lads dead?"

"N-n-no, sir, they're meant to burn with _Charlotte_." Sudden realization swept across Craig's face. He finally appreciated his overlord's ignorance. The look of alarm on the top deck returned. Owen relaxed his grip. "Don't go to her," Craig coughed out. "She'll be fine." Owen fully let go and retracted his arm from the cell.

"That can't be guaranteed. Anything's possible."

"Including her arrangin' all of this." Owen didn't skip a beat before swiftly punching out the prisoner.

Standing proudly on _Echo_ 's deck, Claire took a final look back at _Blue_. She couldn't see Owen and wondered where he was. She was hoping for some form of reassurance but knew nothing would quell the fear pulsing through her veins. Her gun crews on both _Delta_ and _Echo_ were at the ready to sink _Charlotte_ , if need be. Her right hand twitched to reach for her sword while her left fist tightened around a velvet satchel. She had a sneaking suspicion, however, that this game was not about the jewelry contained within it. Foul play or revenge were far more likely.

On her signal, grappling hooks flew from _Echo_ to _Charlotte_ , allowing Claire, Hamada and several select crew members to board. Sailors on both flanking ships prepared to do battle. _Delta_ kept a slight distance to prevent pirates from easily jumping aboard. _Charlotte_ 's deck was eerily quiet. Claire worried that its crew and her brothers had already been killed. Her men fanned out on the top deck as Hamada moved to open the door leading to the lower decks. Before he reached the door, it flung open, and the sharp crack of a musket sounded. Claire watched in horror as Hamada fell backwards, lifeless. A band of pirates immediately swarmed the top deck, trampling Hamada's body in the process. Claire's sailors seemed delighted by the carnage. Laughingly, they broke out their weapons and turned with relish to meet the enemy. Just as Claire moved to unsheath her own sword, she heard Tanaka shouting to her from _Delta_ and ran to the starboard side to hear him more clearly. The velvet satchel was tugged from her hand as a pirate intercepted her. Grasping her firmly about the waist, the dark man dragged her toward the bow of the ship. Claire turned on him with a shriek of fury, nails clawing, but her captor merely laughed, his teeth sparkly white against his tanned face and black beard. He unsheathed her sword himself and held it at her throat to stop her struggling.

The next moments felt to her as if they occurred in slow motion. She found herself at the end of a short plank with the pirate, who moved the tip of her sword to just below her chin. "Despedida, namorada," he sneered. Claire inhaled sharply but kept her eyes fixed on his. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing terror or begging. One side of his mouth curled up as he gave her a respectful nod. She saw something in his eyes. Sympathy? Regret? Before she could ponder it further, the pirate flung the sword into the sea and pushed her overboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you're thinking :)


	13. lfreann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the prolonged delay to this update. I found my groove again and am committed to finishing this story.

Shortly after the shock of falling and hitting the water subsided, Claire felt and heard it. An explosion. It pushed her body further from _Charlotte_ and deeper into the water. She absorbed the shockwave without fighting or panicking. She didn't want to deplete the energy she'd surely need upon resurfacing. As she was practically born to water, she didn't fret her current circumstance. When the sea stilled once more, Claire smoothly kicked her way upward. Her other senses pricked up before she opened her eyes. She knew what was happening by the heat on her face and the crackling sounds at her ears: _Charlotte_ was burning.

Despite Captain Craig's warning, nothing could've prepared Owen for that sight. The flames rising from his mother's namesake ship - threatening to consume _Echo_ as well - were surreal, especially as his mind focused on locating Claire. He'd directed that _Blue_ move slightly closer to _Delta_ immediately after he observed Tanaka signaling for support. Prior to the blast, the loyal captain had pulled his ship further away from _Charlotte_. He must've seen something happening below deck through the vacant cannon openings. Without taking long to consider his actions, Owen dove into the water. He could swim to _Charlotte_ faster than the time it took to launch a rowboat but still worried that he wouldn't make it on time. For what? He didn't even know if Claire was alive. When Tanaka took his attention, Lord Grady lost his visual of her, and the guilt over this threatened to burn his lungs more than the smoke that was mingling with the salty sea air.

Upon reaching _Charlotte_ , Owen took hold of a rope that was dangling from one of the grappling hooks still attached to her side. Fires raged out of the cannon openings at the bow while only gray plumes emanated from the openings close to him at the stern. Although _Echo_ was no longer attached to _Charlotte_ , the damage was done. Her added cannon and gun powder for the possible pirate battle likely hastened _Echo_ 's kindling. The inferno now engulfed both ships, slowly turning them to ash. Owen could hear swords clashing and a few muskets firing as he climbed the rope. He steeled himself to join the fray and prayed that Claire was among those still fighting.

Claire had the distinct impression that she was going in the wrong direction. Both the pirates and her own men were swimming away from _Charlotte_ , presumably for their lives. No one paid any attention to her or the screams behind them. The cries for help were unmistakable; it was the boys, her younger brothers. She followed the sound and hurled herself onto the abandoned rope of a lowered lifeboat. Claire climbed into a cannon opening near _Charlotte_ 's hold. Fueled by adrenaline and duty, she brought her sleeve over her mouth to suppress a coughing fit. It was hard to see through the smoke watering her eyes, but the screams had morphed into a desperate plea: her name.

True to the Dearing spirit, Zachary and Grayson continued to struggle, even while tied to a vertical beam and covered in soot. They hadn't lost hope or fainted from the terror. Claire felt a combination of relief and pride as she wrested her small jeweled dagger from her boot. After she loosed the boys from the ropes, they embraced her briefly, then all three turned toward the large cargo door above their heads. Claire swallowed hard and shielded her brothers from her fearful expression. She had no idea what horrors might await them on the top deck. Would this rescue be short-lived? The flames licked their bodies, and they had to move regardless.

The air on the top deck was thick with smoke. Owen saw men jumping overboard while a scant few remained locked in combat. It was disorienting. He already didn't know what to do. His senses failed him, giving no hint of Claire's existence, let alone position. He grabbed a discarded musket but doubted he would dare fire it into the haze. Poor visibility was probably why the weapon had been left behind. Between the noxious fumes and his frantic heartbeat, Owen started to dissociate. Suddenly, a boot smashed into his back. He already felt unsteady on his feet but - by the grace of God - managed to stay upright. Before he could turn to face his attacker, Claire calling his name sliced through the ringing in his ears. It jolted him back to a fully conscious state. She was alive and close.

"Hit the deck!" she screamed. Owen fell forward without a second thought. There was a quiet whooshing noise followed by a squish and a sword clattering to the ground. A man grunted and dropped to his knees. Owen scrambled to his feet at the sound of Claire's voice coming nearer. As soon as he saw her worried face, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. It might not've been the best timing, but he couldn't stop himself. He was still scared as hell that they'd never make it home. Her presence, her taste, her smell grounded him in reality. Placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, she briefly kissed him back then pulled away, breathless, and cleared her throat.

"My brothers," she said, motioning to the boys standing on either side of her. Owen wanted to kiss her again out of immeasurable relief. They shared a hopeful smile of accomplishment until the older boy cried out, "Mr. Crowley!" There was confusion and sadness in the child's voice. Owen turned around quickly to see his attacker clutching his chest, holding the hilt of a dagger lodged deep within it.

"Don't pull it out, Mr. Crowley," shouted the younger boy, tears streaming down his face. Owen locked eyes with Claire. The boy was right. Based on the dagger's position, removing it would likely hasten the man's death and bring forth a horrific gush of blood that no child should see. The two adults bent down to support the man as he struggled to breathe.

"Claire," he wheezed, "I'm s-sorry."

"It's okay, Patrick," she answered soothingly. Owen saw the guilt on her face. She killed one of her own men. "You didn't know it was Lord Grady."

"L-L-Lord Grady?" He swallowed and finally turned his head toward Owen. His eyes opened as wide as he could muster in his weakened state. Owen recognized the same look of alarm on Crowley's face that he'd witnessed earlier from Captain Craig. The overlord's son was not supposed to be here. "I thought you were a pirate by yer musket. Forgive me." He groaned in agony. Owen felt a violent rage bubbling in his gut. His vision blurred. Claire motioned in the direction where _Delta_ was safely waiting, but he couldn't shift his gaze from the dying man. Even as the wooden boards beneath their feet cracked with strain.

"Who ordered the kidnapping?" Owen snapped. This outburst elicited an indignant scowl from Claire.

"Let him die, Owen," she hissed as her eyes drifted to the distraught boys, clinging to each other in fear. "We need to go." Owen resisted the urge to rip the dagger from Crowley's chest. This opportunity for information-gathering couldn't be replicated. Claire startled at a tremulous hand suddenly gripping her wrist.

"I was following orders," the sailor whispered. "Hide in the Grady family compartments. Kill pirates. Let the boys die. Keep the Dearing alive."

"My father," declared Owen. It was not a question. Crowley simply nodded in response before closing his eyes and taking a final raspy breath. Claire gasped as her hand closed over her mouth. Owen tugged her and the boys away from the body before they all leapt over the starboard rail into the water.

It had only been in the nick of time. Claire couldn't turn her head to watch but she could hear the beloved ships breaking apart behind her. A rowboat with men from _Delta_ met them a short distance from the charred wreckage of _Charlotte_ and _Echo_. Their small group was pulled from the sea and covered in blankets. Still unable to face reality, the Dearing asked solemnly through closed lids, "Where are the pirates?"

"There," answered Grayson. Opening her eyes, she saw her brother pointing to the Portuguese galleon. The ship was turning back toward Flores as a few stragglers bobbed out of the water to hitch themselves to her side. Despite her blanket, Claire felt cold. Her brothers were safe, but at what cost? Her mind raced through possible ways she might've prevented this tragedy. She'd endangered Owen, too. Guilt surged through her veins.

By contrast, Owen was consumed with rage. He considered how and why his father would undertake such a complex deception. The stars must've aligned faster than the MacWilliam anticipated. Otherwise, he wouldn't have put his heir at risk. Or would he? No, that wasn't part of the plan. The plan. The aim was apparent. Disgrace Claire. Eliminate the boys. Make Owen the Dearing, the new leader of the fleet. He looked toward Claire, who was trembling and dazed. She avoided eye contact with her men. All Owen wanted to do was comfort her, but that would likely make the situation worse. Further sealing her fate as a weak woman, incapable of leading the trading empire. So, he held back despite every fiber of his being willing him to reach for her. They needed to find a way to salvage the situation. His eyes moved to her left hand, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Her fingers were bare. Was his mother's ring at the bottom of the sea along with her ship? The poetic justice was almost comical. Upon lifting his head, Claire's eyes met his with a small smile. A tear slipped down her cheek as she tugged at the chain around her neck. Freeing it from her damp clothing, she revealed the claddagh twirling at its end and sparkling under the high sun. The lovers cast long, languishing looks at each other for the duration of the ride to _Delta_.

"Who's that?" Zachary asked Claire as they boarded the ship. The boy's suspicious gaze was fixed on Owen.

She laughed to herself before answering, "My betrothed." Both boys appeared surprised, as if mentally counting the number of days since their abduction.

"Does Mama know?" Grayson asked innocently. This simple, childish question triggered an audible laugh from both Claire and Owen. Karen's keen intuition picked up on the attraction between them from the very beginning. The memory of the discussion with her step-mother on her wedding day caused Claire to blush. She gazed up at Owen and saw lust reflected in his captivating stare. The sentiment was mutual. In that moment, Claire wanted nothing more than to hide away from the world with him. They could find solace by getting lost in each other. Suddenly, Captain Tanaka cleared his throat to demand their attention.

" _Delta_ and _Blue_ are safe along wi' the survivors of the blaze," the Captain announced. "But, we don't have enough provisions for all bodies between the two remaining ships to get home."

"I won't risk making port in Flores or anywhere in the Azores," Claire answered firmly. Tanaka and Owen nodded in agreement. "Could we reach a Northern port in Spain?"

"Aye, if we ration."

"Very well. Lord Grady and I will return to _Blue_."

Owen interjected playfully, "We're quite fatigued." As he obviously feigned a yawn, Claire's elbow poked him in the ribs.

Not wanting to catch him grinning like the cat that got the cream, she looked down at her brothers and said, "You'll remain here with Captain Tanaka." Turning toward Owen, small hands pulled at her sleeves.

"Can we stay with you?" Zachary asked. Although comfortable with training the boys in sea-faring, she doubted her ability to provide maternal companionship. She reflexively began to shake her head but stopped at the sight of her brothers' pleading faces.

"Of course," answered Claire, unconvincingly. Her teeth clenched in dissatisfaction, but the boys hugged her all the same. Owen placed a hand on her shoulder, and she covered it with her own. If she'd dared to look at him then, she would've witnessed his utter disappointment at their unexpected company.

Owen sat stiffly next to Claire at the table across from her brothers, plainly exhausted as they ate their meager supper. The rough seas combined with his sexual frustration left Owen without an appetite. He ate only for sustenance, as the portion wouldn't be filling anyway. Dom had curled his body at their feet and seemed similarly frustrated by the lack of table scraps being offered. An unconscious groan escaped Owen's lips. Claire leaned her body into him slightly and whispered in his ear, "I want you."

"I want you more," he whispered back. Her smoky eyes caught his in a blazing green gaze, and he was so fascinated with the passion he saw in their depths that he forgot to breathe and suddenly found himself gasping.

"Not possible," she purred, as if reading his mind. No sooner than the words rolled off her tongue did she place her hand on his thigh under the table. Owen almost jumped at her wicked teasing. Biting his tongue, he decided two could play that game.

He invoked the same words from _droit du seigneur_ and growled low, "None compare to you," then repositioned her hand over the bulge in his pants. Claire's subsequent squeal drew the attention of the boys, who looked at them quizzically. While she blushed furiously, Owen just chuckled. Her hand returned to her goblet of ale.

Zachary's face scrunched in disgust before he nearly sneered, "You're looking at each other like Zara and Alec do right before they kiss." The goblet slipped out of Claire's grip and spilled onto the table, eliciting giggles from Grayson. The wolfhound whimpered but didn't come out to inspect the ruckus.

"Speaking of your caretaker," redirected Owen, with subtle sarcasm. "Did Zara get something from the healer on the day you boys were kidnapped?" Claire did a double-take. In that moment, Owen realized that there hadn't been time to tell her about his interrogation of Captain Craig. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Zara gets medicine from Henry every morning," Grayson answered, "for her tummy." Owen's eyebrows raised as he looked at Claire, who scoffed.

Speaking in a hushed tone, she revealed, "It's to prevent her tummy from...growing." Her betrothed's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"That exists?" he asked incredulously and added under his breath, "In Catholic Ireland?"

"Yes," Claire smirked. "It's how Karen controls the bastard population and Henry's most popular 'remedy.'" She laughed heartily while Owen went quiet. "What's wrong?"

Especially in the company of the boys, Owen hesitated to reveal what he'd done behind her back.

"We need to talk about something after your brothers are put to bed."

When the boys were tucked into the single bunk in the side cabin where Owen had previously slept, Claire directed Dom to stay at their side. Returned to the main area of the captain's quarters, Claire looked at Owen expectantly with her arms crossed over her chest. Her impatient expression indicated the want of an explanation rather than sexual desire, but he was still happy to be alone with her once more. He approached her cautiously before gently pulling her arms down to her sides and massaging her deltoids.

Despite his best efforts to soothe her, she asked pointedly, "What do you know?" Claire didn't like being in the dark, especially when it came to her mission. Her leadership of the trading empire was already at stake. Her ego had suffered a sizable blow. Negative thoughts and emotions plagued her.

"I talked to Craig when you left for _Charlotte_ ," replied Owen calmly. She sighed, unsurprised by the revelation. It was only a matter of time. She felt pulled in different directions, wanting to be mad and grateful simultaneously, but settled on cool detachment. Now was not the moment to chastise him or get ruffled over what his "disobedience" meant for their future. She lifted her brows, silently urging him to continue. "He was working under Henry's direction."

"Henry colluded with your father?" she blurted out, staggered by the betrayal in her own household.

"Apparently." Owen paused to swallow before adding, "But Craig didn't know about my father. He assumed you were behind it...to eliminate the boys." Horrified, Claire leaned into his chest and clasped her arms tightly around his waist. This was too much to lose. Long forgotten were her prized dagger and sword. Her mind swam, as if she was drowning. How many of her own sailors would give her a vote of no confidence? Would her authority still be respected? Was there anyone she could trust not to challenge her loyalty? Appreciating her discombobulation, Owen said soothingly, "We'll figure this out together." She bristled at this and pulled away from him suddenly.

"Even you," she hissed. "You initially thought that I should abandon the boys."

"I was angry at their mother! You accused me of coveting the trading empire." Claire chewed her lip in frustration. Arguing was futile and, furthermore, making her want to tackle him onto the inviting, nearby mattress. From the darkness in his eyes, he clearly sensed the heat between them, too.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I feel lost." He pulled her back into his embrace, and she sighed. "I was lost to the abyss once before, and you found me. Saved me."

"We saved each other, Claire. Before I met you, I had no direction. _Charlotte_ brought us together. If that was her purpose, the loss was not in vain." Tugging her chin upward and looking into her eyes, he continued, "I doubted you once but never again. You are an amazing woman. Strong, intelligent, loyal, and forgiving...my failings included."

When he moved to kiss her, she smirked, "Can you stop at a kiss, my lord?" His smile cheered her like nothing else. "I don't want to wake the boys."

"As I recall," he teased in response, "you are the loud one in bed."

"Better not risk it then."

"To hell with that!" They both laughed before he captured her lips with his. It was easy, comfortable, and natural, yet at the same time, the intensity of sensation was fierce and powerful. Despite her limited experience, Claire knew what they shared was rare - perhaps once in a lifetime. It could bring them untold strength. Come what may, she would fight to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth the wait - thanks for reading!


	14. Fathach

"I definitely prefer your mouth," Claire said in a light tone while slowly trailing her lips down Owen's neck. His chest vibrated with a deep chuckle, and he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'd prefer your mouth, too," he answered huskily between shaky breaths, "but you can unman me any way you want." After being unable to stop at a kiss, he'd convinced her that using their hands wouldn't compromise her ability to respond to calls for the ship's captain or her role as older sister. Her tension instantly started melting away when Owen's hands found her bare skin. Each touch seemed to reach her core. When he finally brought her to the brink, Claire disconnected from reality and lost herself to ecstasy. She scarcely knew it was possible that way and, in all honestly, felt like he'd been holding out on her. Once returned to awareness, his smug grin weakened her resolve not to go further than manual stimulation. It had been too long since they were together in this way. She'd managed to bury her desire to have him every day. Now, it was back and stronger than ever.

As she prepared to reciprocate, she teased him to cover the nervousness about her inexperience. It was all self-flagellation, however. Owen, laying flat on his back, clearly enjoyed everything she was doing to him. While she might not have to do much, she wanted to do it well all the same. Encircling the great length of him with her hand, he groaned loudly just as she blushed at the thought of using her mouth instead. She refrained from voicing fears of choking on him. His eyelids fluttered shut when he grunted, "You're unmanning me too quickly. It's not good for my reputation." He opened his eyes to wink at her, and her nervousness vanished.

"Better not tell me these things," she smirked. "I'm apt to find someone with more stamina."

"You are wicked." That was all he managed to say before closing his eyes again. Her strokes found a rhythm that delighted them both. Claire liked watching him and reveled in him writhing beneath her touch. When he felt himself nearing the peak, Owen lifted himself up to kiss her. Her whimper at being startled intensified his release. She never tasted so sweet. Pulling her with him, he fell back onto the bed. His hand began to pet her as he might a cat, and she shivered with pleasure. "Bravo, Captain," he crooned low. The sentiment held multiple meanings. He meant to show her over time how deeply devoted he could be. God, how he loved her! It was a dream come true for him. "You are in my blood, Claire." There was a silence of utter contentment. Were it not for the moisture he suddenly felt dripping onto his chest, he might've thought she'd drifted to sleep. She lifted her head to look at him with tear-filled eyes. Cupping her cheek, Owen's thumb wiped away a stream.

"You'll never let me go?" she asked after drawing a stuttering breath.

"Never."

"Even if I'm cruel?"

"Aye, there will be times for us both to be." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "We have stubborn natures." They both laughed. "And, you won't leave me?"

Fighting back fresh tears, she stammered, "If _Charlotte_ brought us together, 'twas _Echo_ that ripped us apart. I've hated that ship since I boarded it for Gyrisfana Valley. There is balance in their destruction." Owen stared blankly back at her. Realizing that she was too vague in her wistfulness, Claire added, "That is to say, you're stuck with me." His resultant smile was ear-to-ear and made her want to giggle like a wee lassie. She felt simultaneously young and womanly in his arms. Cradled this night, however, she slept like a baby.

The following morning, the boys refused to leave their sister's side. She had constant shadows as she paced the top deck. Owen eventually managed to distract them with the tricks he'd taught Dom so that Claire could have a few moments to her thoughts.

"English ships!" came a loud call from the crow's nest. The captain extended her own pocket spyglass while Owen and her brothers rushed to her side along the starboard railing.

"Who are they?" asked Owen, laboring to subdue his wariness. Three ships bearing the English flag were headed directly for their two ships.

"I don't know," Claire answered. "I can't make out the crest on the secondary flag of the lead vessel." The group stood stock still until she added happily, "It's the Marisco family crest!" While she seemingly searched for signs of the Lord of Lundy, Owen groaned audibly. The muscles on one side of his face twitched. Adam de Marisco might not have anything to do with the sabotage, but Lord Grady couldn't help viewing him as a rival. Especially with Claire almost bursting with excitement at his ships' approach. She instructed her first mate to signal to Tanaka on _Delta_.

"If he's coming to our aid, we won't need to stop in Spain," she spoke giddily, "and our remaining ships would undoubtedly return to Masrannessey safely."

"He might be coming to finish us off," grumbled Owen in response. Claire did a double-take and looked on him with incredulity.

"Owen." Her warning tone gave him a shiver, and not the good kind. "He wouldn't openly challenge us while flying Bloody Mary's flag. He'd trigger an all-out war between the Irish and English. Even if you don't trust him, he's a smarter man than that."

"He thinks he's smarter."

"Owen!" Her voice was almost shrill. Dom barked harshly in response, breaking Claire's focus.

"What's wrong?" Zachary asked haughtily. "You don't like Adam?"

Owen scoffed, "Adam? Are you on such friendly terms?"

"Yes. He's impressive. Rich, funny, and-"

"Giant!" Grayson interrupted with glee. "He's the biggest man I've ever seen, and he talks to us like men - equals!" The boys nodded furiously at one another while Claire suppressed a laugh.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Owen, his impatience and frustration growing by the second.

Zachary explained, "He picks us up so that our eyes are at the same level."

"A sign of respect," added Claire, grinning smugly.

"Does he carry you, too?" Owen's words dripped with sarcasm, but she only rolled her eyes. Her brothers dissolved into a fit of giggles before she could open her mouth to speak.

"He'd like to do more than carry her," Zachary managed to say as his body shook with mirth. His sister shot him a nasty glare while Grayson's face scrunched in confusion, perhaps realizing that he wasn't laughing at the same thing as his older brother.

Pulling Claire aside, Owen whispered gruffly, "No excuses this time. Keep the ring on your finger."

Her eyes slitted before she hissed, "That was not an excuse. It's too loose to be worn into battle." One side of her mouth curled upwards prior to her finishing her thought. "Your mother had fat fingers. I'll have the smith resize it immediately upon our return. Then, I won't be afraid of losing something so precious." Smiling provocatively, she took his hand in hers. Owen's jaw relaxed. The burning rage in his eyes cooled.

He brought her hand to his lips and - after kissing it - said, "You're the most precious thing to me."

"I know, but I'm not...loose." Though her voice was teasing, her face was solemn. "Stuck together." Surprising him, Claire stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. It was brief, but the implication was clear. She was marking him as much as he was her.

Within the hour, de Marisco's ships came to rest a short distance from _Blue_ , and the imposing Lord of Lundy was rowing himself unaccompanied to bridge the gap. The boys were correct: Adam was a massive man. Owen steeled himself for a confrontation. His mind toggled between suspicion and relief at this unexpected appearance. It could not have been a coincidence. A lifelong bachelor, the English giant was said to be the last of his line and as much a cutthroat as anyone. He was a legitimate trader, but Claire revealed that the man made his fortune giving sanctuary and selling supplies to privateers and smugglers.

De Marisco's huge bulk sent a tremor through the top deck when he finally climbed aboard. Zachary and Grayson ran to greet him while Claire and Owen stood a short distance away. It took most of Lord Grady's focus not to possessively place his hands on his betrothed.

"Lads!" shouted Adam, his voice thunder-deep as he swept them up into an embrace. "I'm so happy to see that you're safe." His hair was as black as night, as was his full, well-barbered beard. He sported a gold earring in his left ear. His doublet was of fine, soft leather, and his white silk shirt was open, revealing a thick mat of hair. His commanding boots rose well above his knees and covered pants of a deep green. Owen very nearly gulped out of sheer intimidation, and that was before their visitor turned his smoky, blue-eyed smolder on Claire. Adam kept his gaze fixed on her as he strode across the deck with purpose. Greeting her in the French fashion, he held both her hands as he planted quick kisses on her cheeks. Owen's tightly pursed lips transformed into a cocky smile when he witnessed Adam's dissatisfaction at noticing the metal on Claire's left hand.

Running his thumb over the ring, the Lord of Lundy gasped, "Little girl, are you now old enough to be wed? But not to me?" He feigned offense, licking his lips and leering at her seductively. When Owen loudly cleared his throat, Adam's eyes drifted away from her to appraise the other man. "Is this him?"

"Yes," Claire answered firmly. "I'd like to introduce Lord Owen Grady."

Mouth agape, de Marisco composed himself before inquiring, "The MacWilliam's heir? Captain Marauder?" He appeared impressed but wary. "Of course, I know you by reputation."

"I know you in the same way," sniggered Owen, eyes narrowing. "And, Claire's not a 'little girl' - she's a lady and tall for a woman."

Adam huffed, "She's a full foot shorter than I and has never been bothered by that particular term of endearment." Watching the men posture at each other, Claire almost laughed. The boys had returned to her side but were shifting their weight nervously between their feet.

Zachary spoke first, "Tell Adam about our adventure, Claire."

"How you saved us!" Grayson interjected.

"How you saved Owen," added the older brother slyly. Lord Grady finally ended his staring contest with Adam and appeared to be seething when he turned toward Claire.

"Alright, boys," she redirected in a soothing tone. "You need to stay on deck with Dom while we talk in my quarters." The lads groaned loudly in protest as Claire took Owen's hand to lead him away. For his part, Owen resisted all impulses to gloat about being included. Her confident grip on him was both relaxing and arousing. It was enough reward for him, especially in the context of the English giant's gritted teeth and sagging shoulders.

"What brings you to us?" Claire asked pointedly. Her tone and demeanor were stern as she sat across from Adam at her desk. Owen was leaning against the wall to her left side, planning to remain silent during the discussion between captains.

Ignoring the somber mood set by his hosts, Adam responded lightly, "Your man, Tanaka, wrote to me of _Charlotte_ 's misfortune and your journey to Corvo. I wanted to be of assistance." He paused to smile broadly. "I wish to ensure your safe passage back to Ireland." His statement elicited polar opposite reactions from Claire and Owen. She breathed a sigh of relief while his body went rigid. Owen didn't appreciate the Lord of Lundy's sultry voice and body language directed toward a taken woman. His woman. As he'd resumed ignoring the other man, de Marisco missed what went unspoken. Words escaped them all with the sudden sound of fast-approaching footsteps outside.

"Captain Dearing," boomed Tanaka's voice followed by his pounding on the door.

"Come in," Claire answered cautiously and quickly stood. Owen's right hand moved reflexively to the sword on his hip. His eyes never left the other man, who remained seated and, oddly, impatient. Upon entering the room, Tanaka immediately raised his sword to their guest's throat.

"Jesus, man," sputtered Adam, raising his palms. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Hold yer tongue," Tanaka hissed back. Turning to Claire, he said, "What did he tell you?" Claire's arms crossed over her chest. Her heart was racing, and her breathing hard. The amount of deception surrounding her was almost suffocating. Not Adam, too.

She took a deep breath and replied, "That you wrote him about _Charlotte_ being taken to Corvo, and that he's here to help." Her loyal captain chuckled viciously.

"Did he now?" He twisted the blade at Adam's neck, drawing a small trickle of blood. "Funny, I didn't write him our destination."

Sweat forming on his brow, de Marisco pleaded, "I can explain!" Six expectant eyes bore into him to elaborate. "My castle steward, Eli Mills, he...he read your letter. I never even saw it. He told me where you were meeting the pirates."

"Why should we believe you?" Owen piped up, barely able to contain the urge to run the man through with his own sword.

"Someone has set me up." As Adam gulped, the others snorted. "Mills knew I'd leap at a chance to rescue Claire." Fixed on the Dearing herself, his eyes had gone beyond pleading. He looked embarrassed and defeated. "I've wanted you in my bed since first we met, and-"

She cut him off, "You thought I'd be so grateful..." Her voice trailed off as she sat back down and sighed. Even Owen relaxed. He, more than anyone, could empathize. When Claire motioned for Tanaka to stand down, her captain reluctantly sheathed his sword but didn't step away.

After rubbing his neck, Adam nodded his thanks then looked at Owen. "I didn't know," he said quietly. "Claire is beautiful and a lady. I knew of no other way for someone like me to possess something so fabulously rare as she. You are a lucky man." Turning to Claire, he continued humbly, "My business 'ventures' may be unorthodox, but I am an ethical man." Her brows knitted as she leaned back in her chair.

"Oh, Adam," tutted Claire, shaking her head dismissively. "My father taught me that the only way to avoid being cheated by one's steward was to do one's own household accounts." Careful not to sound overly-condescending, she maintained a teasing air. "I hope you haven't given this Mills character too much leeway with your books. Otherwise, you have much more to worry about than Captain Tanaka's blade."

"I still wish to accompany you to Masrannessey."

"No." Her tone was harsh in its lack of emotion. The playfulness had drained from her expression. "You'll provide the supplies my ships need to return home. Then, you'll sail in tandem with us to the Celtic Sea, where we'll part ways." She might as well have slapped Adam in the face. Giving each other a sideways glance, Owen and Tanaka communicated their shared approval and pride in her leadership. Claire truly was a force of nature. "Available information suggests that the trading company was betrayed Henry Wu, the healer at Dearing castle. I believe his deception was encouraged by the MacWilliam and that misdirection was the keystone of the plot. Seeding doubt paramount." De Marisco's eyes flitted to Owen, whose jaw and fists were clenched. "We both likely have surprises awaiting us on our isles."

"I'll have Mills drawn and quartered for this!" The English giant smacked his palm against the armrest of his chair, causing it to crack. Claire laughed softly while rolling her eyes.

"Do what you must, but please get answers from him first - not everyone party to the sabotage knew all the other players." Directing her attention to Tanaka, she continued, "Lord Grady will tell you what we learned. I need to speak with Lord de Marisco alone." At this, Owen blanched. She gave him a warning look before smiling sweetly. Trust and mutual respect were needed to fight their real enemies. Winking, Owen led Tanaka out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Adam waggled his eyebrows at Claire, who couldn't help but smile.

"Adam, while I am grateful and flattered, that was never going to happen."

"Even if Lord Grady wasn't here?" His features conveyed a mixture of hope and childish pouting. A deep sigh escaped her lips. Men are such fools, she thought.

"He wasn't there when you first asked me, but he's always been in my heart." It was his turn to sigh. He stood and walked around the desk toward her. Reflexively, Claire was on her feet as well.

"Relax," he said gently. With unexpected delicacy, Adam scooped up her hand to kiss it. "I meant what I said earlier...about you. Once my pride heals, I hope you'll tell me the full fairy tale, little girl." A sly grin split her face, and he cocked his head inquisitively.

"It's quite scandalous, I assure you."

"Don't make my jealousy worse." Biting her lip, she stopped herself from taking a swipe at him - not wanting to be a tease. He, nonetheless, caught her restrained movements, and his face fell. "We could've been a formidable pair."

Her hands flying to her hips, Claire scoffed, "I thought you just wanted to bed me!"

"Perhaps, you make me want something more." There was no guile in his tone. She knew he meant that sentiment, too.

"Friends?" Eyebrows raised expectantly; her expression conciliatory.

Smoothing his bearded chin in contemplation, he mused, "I've never been friends with a woman, but I'll make an exception for you." A faint blush spread across her cheeks.

"Thank you."

"I'll send you a message after I interrogate Mills." Flashing a roguish, lopsided grin, he glanced at the door and asked, "Shall we linger a bit longer to make him sweat?" Claire blew the loose strands of hair out of her eyes.

"You're incorrigible."

After the boys hugged Adam goodbye, Claire led them toward the bow to quiz their nautical knowledge. Dom bounded alongside the trio. Towering a half-foot over Owen, the Lord of Lundy loudly cleared his throat.

"I want to clear the air," thunderous voice in a more subdued tone. "As long as you're in her favor, I'll make no further overtures." It sounded vaguely threatening, but Owen didn't flinch.

"That's very...'big' of you," Lord Grady answered mockingly.

"It's a consistent descriptor." His boisterous laugh rumbled about the deck, and Owen eventually joined in. He had walked right into the joke. Clapping a large hand on the other man's shoulder, Adam said seriously, "I've spent time in both the English and French courts. Claire's combination of strength and beauty is without rival - she could take on a queen."

"Or a king."

"Aye." Adam looked wistfully in her direction. "She's like a star, wondrous and sparkling and unobtainable...to me." Turning to Owen once again, he added, "I'll leave the star-catching to you."

Owen watched as de Marisco returned to his ships. Lost in his thoughts, Claire managed to sneak up on her betrothed just as she did the last time he was ruminating on the Lord of Lundy. When she brushed up against him, he almost startled. Waiting to follow her lead in terms of further contact, he whispered, "You're astonishing."

"Thank you." She didn't have to specify what. Her gratitude reflected many things, just like his own statement. He smiled down at her, and then her lips met his in a kiss of incredible sweetness. Their mouths melted into one another until there was no beginning and, seemingly, no end. He wanted the kiss to go on forever, for her touch had transported him beyond the world he knew and into a realm of light and love so pure that he knew nothing would ever be the same again for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the giant and what he brought out in Claire and Owen. Thanks to everyone who has stuck by this story and encouraged me, especially AkaJB, hushedgreylily, thehelloitsme, Camazotz, and Wax. Some days, writing seems impossible, but you keep me striving :)


	15. Baile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the final, full chapter before the epilogue, but I had too much to say :) I hope loyal readers don't mind an additional chapter.

The sun was setting on the horizon behind them but still provided enough light for Claire's remaining ships to maneuver into Dearing Bay. She'd been pacing _Blue_ 's deck restlessly for hours. Now, Owen stood behind her as they stared at the not-so-distant tower house. With his strong arms wrapped about her lithe form, he attempted to quell her nerves. His own, too. Claire turned her head to kiss his cheek before rubbing her own cheek against his.

"Your father will be waiting for us," she whispered.

"I know," sighed Owen, closing his eyes. "I've been trying to avoid thinking about it."

"I know," she chuckled. "You've changed the subject multiple times." Relaxing against him, she went silent. As if daring him to do it again. She felt him biting his lip. "Be careful not to draw blood. I don't think it would do to greet the MacWilliam with a fat lip." Suddenly, he hissed and gently turned her body to face him. Her heart skipped a beat when he stroked the side of her face.

"Can't I have a moment to reflect on the last time I arrived in this Bay?" Her breath hitched as he stared intently at her. Swallowing hard, she nodded lightly. His arms pulled her close, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "I was so anxious. It was suffocating. He was calling me home, at long last, to wed a stranger. Then, I saw you." His gaze never drifted nor did he blink, even as his eyes began to well with tears. "You changed the course of my life." His forehead dropped against hers, and she felt tiny droplets moistening her face. Tipping her head up, she captured his lips with her own. His jaw instantly slackened to deepen the kiss. Her thoughts drifted to their first meeting at the port. How informally she'd dressed and how petulantly she'd behaved. If he wanted her in that state, how could she ever doubt his feelings for her?

A breathy moan escaped her lips as she pulled back to breathe. "Are you less anxious this time, my captain?" Despite her teasing, his expression was stern upon opening his eyes.

"I know what I said at the beginning of our voyage, but..." Owen's low voice trailed off as he took her hands. "I prefer us to be equals." She looked on him questioningly. "What? I rather thought you'd want that."

"I do," she admitted. "But I fear that will not always be easy. You are a man; I, a woman."

"And I'm very glad of that!"

Swatting his chest playfully, she pleaded, "Stop. You know what I mean."

"Aye." He paused to turn their bodies back to the port and wrap one arm around her waist. His free hand gestured forward. "We love each other, and because we do one's problems become the other's. It's really that simple." Claire had no words for that. None that could adequately convey her gratitude for having him come into her life. Instead, she leaned into him once more.

_Blue_ 's gangway had touched down on the dock for only a split second before Karen rushed aboard. "Mama!' the boys shouted in unison as they ran to meet her open arms. Their mother's tears wet them both thoroughly but neither cared, as they were crying, too. Claire's eyes tingled with her own fragile emotions when her stepmother yanked her into the group embrace.

"Don't forget Owen," Zachary reminded with a sniffle. None of the adults scolded him for the informality. In all honesty, Owen swelled with pride that the lad felt so comfortable with him after such a short time. It was especially satisfying given the boys' established familiarity with Adam de Marisco. Owen still found himself a little awkward in the hug and kept his body closest to Claire.

Karen continued to hold onto her boys, stroking their hair, when she addressed the adults. "The MacWilliam is here," she huffed with obvious impatience, "lording over everyone at the castle." Owen's posture stiffened. Although his father's presence on Masrannessey was forecasted, the fact that the elder didn't greet them at the port seemed to confirm his guilt in the kidnapping. "The staff are in upheaval over his visit as well as the coincidental, mysterious disappearance of Master Wu."

"Henry's gone?" Claire blurted out.

"He hasn't been seen since the night prior to the overlord's arrival."

"Has anyone else gone missing?" Asked Claire, her mind finding a focus.

"Nay. Alec and Zara eloped and left of their own free will. Good riddance to them!"

"You let Alec leave? What if he had been party to the plot?"

Karen shook her head, "Those two simpletons could scarcely prepare their belongings for the journey to the mainland. Besides, I would've thrown a party to send them off after Zara proved to be such a poor governess." She squeezed her sons a little tighter at that. "Thank goodness for Hortenzia! Her apprenticeship paid off, and she splendidly took over as healer in Henry's absence." Claire and Owen exchanged a tentative glance that didn't escape the others' notice.

"How's Maisie?" Grayson piped up with curiosity.

"Fine," answered Karen, her gaze turning briefly towards her son then sharpening suspiciously when returned to her stepdaughter. With a quirked brow, she inquired, "How's their father? Still incarcerated?" Hortenzia and Maisie were the only children of Captain Craig. A widower for several years, Craig had asked Simon to allow his girls to stay in the castle while he was at sea. Avidly drawn to herbal medicine, Hortenzia became Henry's instant sidekick. Maisie, on the other hand, preferred to play about with Grayson. The pair were always getting into mischief.

"Still a prisoner," Claire explained, "but serving a six-month sentence in the dungeon on Lundy Isle." A shocked expression appeared on Karen's face. Owen nodded in encouragement as Claire continued. "We interrogated Captain Craig several times during the voyage. He eventually admitted his guilt, claiming that Master Wu threatened to have Hortenzia removed from the castle if he didn't assist with the sabotage."

"Let's not speak further on it in front of the boys," Karen responded nervously then whispered, covering Grayson's ears, "I didn't like Henry, but I never conceived that he'd betray us in such a way."

"I don't think his departure is coincidental with my father's visit," Owen interjected through gritted teeth. A dark look passed over Karen's face.

She shrugged it off then turned to Claire with a grimace, "I gave him your bedchamber."

"What?" Claire and Owen exclaimed in unison.

Karen scowled, "I'm still in mourning over Simon and haven't yet been made to relinquish my apartment!" When Claire became the Dearing, she allowed her stepmother to continue staying in the large, private area of the castle that was designed by Simon. Karen added with a shudder, "I'm especially glad I didn't offer it to the MacWilliam if he masterminded my sons' abduction - the nerve of that man!"

Taking a deep, steadying breath and placing a hand on Owen's heaving chest, Claire asked calmly, "Why mine?"

"Spare me," scoffed Karen. "Everyone knows yours is second best to mine and Simon's - for as long as I've been living in the castle!" The women postured at each other briefly before Karen moved to disembark with the the boys.

Owen tugged Claire's sleeve and spoke softly, "I want to take the lead on confronting my father."

"You most certainly will not!" Claire's anger at her stepmother seemingly transferred to him as she snarled. "I am the chieftainess of this barony, and your father compromised both my family and my trading company."

"What about me?" Owen spat back. "He put his heir - your betrothed - at risk!"

"He didn't think you'd be here." Putting a hand on her chest, she attempted to slow her breathing. "My letter of betrothal was so recent. Surely, this plan was already in motion."

"He didn't stop me from coming to you!" Owen's nostrils flared. His fists balled at his sides. Claire looked at him sympathetically and led him away from the gangplank to a more private alcove on the deck.

"Owen, please. Your response in this moment confirms that you should not be the one to take him on first." She paused to wrap her arms around his midsection and bury her face in his chest. "Your father is a problem for us both," she said soothingly. "I want you by my side, but I need to be the point person on this." As soon as she looked up to lock eyes with his, Owen leaned down to kiss her passionately.

Pulling back, he smiled at her cheekily and teased, "Where will we lie together?" His desire for her was apparent in his face and pants.

"There are many places in the castle to hide away," she answered breathily. "I hope you can wait."

"You've taught me that patience is a virtue."

"You're worth waiting for, too." Resuming their embrace, his anger and lust cooled temporarily. They both enjoyed a final, peaceful moment in each other's arms before they needed to face off with the MacWilliam.

After disembarking, Claire stopped briefly to talk with Captain Tanaka, principally to update him regarding Henry's disappearance. She entrusted her loyal second-in-command with the ransom note and instructed him to go directly to the healer's workshop to compare the handwriting. If Master Wu had rushed away in the night, he'd likely left behind notes or other scrawl to confirm her suspicions. Tanaka also volunteered to track down and interrogate Siobhan's husband, Ewan. During the voyage, Tanaka had voiced concerns about Ewan being involved in the plot - revenge for not being named the interim Dearing chief. As the husband of Simon's eldest daughter, that position might've been granted to him. Claire gave credence to that theory and tormented herself with her decision to entrust Ewan with the letter to the MacWilliam prior to their leaving for Corvo. Owen had reassured her that she made the best decision at the time and had no evidence to suspect Ewan. The reassurances also served to temper his own concerns about his father.

In his head, Owen replayed conversations he had with his father about Claire when she was in Gyrisfana. He specifically ruminated on Victor neither confirming nor denying his role in their being separated before and after her wedding. Despite his best efforts, Owen had failed to obtain concrete evidence linking his father to any sinister plots, past or present. Patrick Crowley was dead. Henry Wu was gone. Further testimony from Captain Craig on _Blue_ was revelatory but came up short with regard to the MacWilliam. As one of the Captains who'd accompanied his chieftainess to Connaught when she swore fealty to her overlords, Craig's high opinion of Claire never wavered. He avowed a belief that she orchestrated the plot with the healer, telling her that he was impressed by her cunning and supported her becoming the one true Dearing. Both Claire and Owen found this admission to be genuine, but the Dearing had to punish him. There was no greater punishment for an Irishman than to be sent to an English prison, so Claire arranged for him to stay in Adam de Marisco's keep. In her mercy, she agreed to serve as guardian for Captain Craig's daughters until his release.

It further filled Owen with pride in his choice of mate to see Claire displaying her maternal side. She never ceased to amaze him, and he never ceased to be amazed by what she brought out in him. For the first time in his life, Captain Marauder truly wanted children of his own. This new desire gave him a different perspective on the future and his father. Owen decided that their best hope for a confession from the MacWilliam was that the man himself felt remorse for endangering his son.

Victor was pacing by the fireplace in the drawing room when Claire and Owen entered the space. His expression shifted between concern, regret, and discomfort at their approach. Claire was pleased that they already seemed to have the upper hand. The elder Grady pulled his son into a hesitant hug that was not returned. Owen was surprisingly affected by how this caused his father's face to fall and shoulders to sag. The man appeared to age a decade in that moment. All three remained silent as Claire moved to shut the door. She startled at the door pushing back against her hand. Dom padded into the room with determination in his step. His mistress greeted him warmly and missed the look of alarm that crossed Victor's features. Owen didn't miss it and chuckled to himself.

The door finally shut and Dom settled in front of the fire, Claire turned back toward the Gradys. Before she could speak, the MacWilliam proclaimed, "I knew you'd both return alive!"

Quirking a brow and crossing her arms, Claire answered firmly, "You ordered that I would survive." Owen stopped himself from speaking out and let her continue uninterrupted. "I can only presume that you had faith in your heir's prowess." Victor appeared to bite his tongue at that but stood his ground. "You don't deny it?" She challenged.

Clearing his throat against Claire's steely gaze, he stated flatly, "Somebody's gotta make sure this family's got a future." He drew a circle in the air with an outstretched hand, capturing the three of them along its circumference. Owen's anger boiled over.

"What if I had perished at sea?" snarled Owen, unable to remain silent. "You would've had nothing! The English would've descended upon you to take the Grady lands."

"They covet our lands already," Victor hissed with contempt. "You taunt them with your naval exploits and obstinance toward me. You have not provided an heir!" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's not just the English either. Our Irish neighbors don't support us because of your refusal to form an alliance." Looking to Claire, he softened. "You risked our family's legacy for her. What else could I do but support you?"

"Support me?!"

"I had to take it upon myself to increase her power. Her worthiness for the Grady name."

"Excuse me?" Claire re-entered the conversation. She'd been gobsmacked by Victor already including her in the family. Part of her was pleased, but most of her couldn't fathom her overlord's arrogance. As if reading her mind, the MacWilliam clicked his tongue while looking in her direction.

"It's grown up time," Victor tutted. "You needed to bring more to the table than a fat dowry." He paused to take a deep breath. "And not just for your sake. Am I making sense to you?"

Taking Owen's hand, Claire conceded, "Yes, additional holdings for our children."

"Exactly!" Victor beamed with apparent self-satisfaction while his son started shaking his head furiously. Claire clasped her other hand over their joined ones to soothe Owen. Adopting a sympathetic tone and affect, their elder seemed to plead, "Everything I've done...it was all for you."

"You put me at risk!" Owen burst out.

"I didn't expect you to be there!" his father shouted back. Claire was convinced that the old man's lip quivered as he said it. Then, he seemed to sputter, "The betrothal request came as a surprise. Wu and Mills had already acted definitively. It was impossible to call it off."

"You told me to go to Claire in Masrannessey, knowing that?"

"Love means taking risks and...as she said, having faith." Owen swallowed hard as he listened. The means to the end was reprehensible, but the overlord did appear genuinely contrite for his cavalier attitude toward his heir's safety. "Your death would kill me, literally and figuratively. It would've been my death, too."

"Where is Henry?" Claire asked while stepping between the two men to help diffuse the situation. Unbeknownst to her, Dom had crept to her side and was glaring menacingly at the MacWilliam.

"Master Wu works for me now," Victor snorted and looked directly at Claire. "Do you know why I first contacted him? Owen was moping around Mid-Connaught, too moral to kill your husband. I wasn't. Henry would have poisoned all the Cruthers. Put you in control of Gyrisfana, so you could bring those lands to your next marriage. To _my_ grandchildren." Victor pointed to Claire's left hand. "That ring made you a Grady. I was acting in _our_ best interests."

"Your plan couldn't guarantee my survival," Claire seethed. "You didn't have that much control over the situation."

"Mother nature has a way of testing her creations," he replied with a shrug, "refining the pecking order."

"You son of a bitch!" Before either Claire or Owen could make a move toward their adversary, Dom lunged for older man and bit a chunk out of his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The precise ending of this story has been altered in the wake of _Fallen Kingdom_ , so let me know what you think of this update. I hope you'll enjoy the conclusion, and I promise to update faster.


	16. Clabhsúr

"Easy, boy," Victor Grady appealed to the wolfhound with a quivering voice. Hands low on either side of his body, he kept his fingers curled in a non-threatening, palms up stance. "We're on the same side." Despite his staccato breaths and the blood dripping from his left arm, the MacWilliam maintained his rigid posture. Dom roared loudly, finally causing his victim to stumble backwards. Victor's retreat was impeded by the fireplace, and he hissed upon feeling the flames at his backside.

"Dom, heel!" Claire cried out as the beast snapped his jaws and snarled menacingly at the old man, who had begun cowering. The pain was apparent on his face and in the trembling of the arm hugged to his midsection. When Dom didn't obey Claire's repeated command, she pulled him back by the collar. Dragging the dog gently toward Owen, she looked up at her betrothed questioningly.

Owen was paralyzed by the discordant emotions rocking his body. His vision blurred. He was all at once smug, elated, angry, worried, and ashamed. This injured man, for all his faults, was still his father. A father who was capable of love. Who had been cherished in return by the mother Owen had loved and respected. Recognizing his discombobulation, Claire silently replaced her hand on Dom's collar with one of Owen's. While Owen remained still, she swiftly tore off the left sleeve of her silk shirt and wrapped Victor's arm. It was to subdue both the bleeding and the discomfort building in her gut. The entire situation left her profoundly unsettled on the inside; while, outwardly, Claire was laser-focused on minimizing the tissue damage as well as the mess in the drawing room.

Finally snapping out of his trance, Owen declared through gritted teeth, "Let's get him to Hortenzia."

They stopped briefly in the Great Hall to bring Dom to Zachary and Grayson. Walking briskly toward the healer's underground sanctuary, Claire exchanged an ominous look with Karen whilst Owen supported most of his father's weight. Victor kept his eyes squeezed shut and gnashed his teeth. Upon the party's arrival, Hortenzia shot up from her stool and abandoned the text she'd been reading.

"What happened?" The healer asked soothingly while directing the patient to be lain on a table.

Claire answered, "Dom bi-"

"Attacked me!" the MacWilliam interrupted then yelped loudly as Hortenzia removed the shirt sleeve to examine the wound. With the injured man's body jerking almost violently, Owen and Claire instinctively moved to hold him down together. The overlord's son resisted the urge to stuff a clean portion of the sleeve down his father's throat. "Do you know what you're doing, girl?" barked Victor.

"I was trained in French surgical techniques," Hortenzia replied calmly. She left the table briefly to retrieve a case of surgical tools, swabs, and two vials of liquid.

When she returned to his side, the old man spat, "Have you even _seen_ France?"

Hortenzia turned her eyes toward Claire then shook her head. Passing one vial to her patient, the healer responded firmly, "No, I've never seen France with my own eyes, but don't worry. Master Wu is a great teacher. I have your best interests in mind, too. Drink it."

"What is it?" Victor was gradually calming down but clearly wary.

"Laudanum, for the pain." He gulped the liquid without hesitation then relaxed against the table. Hortenzia directed Owen to pass her swabs and the other vial, which she explained was disinfectant. The overlord howled as the healer cleaned his injury. Exhibiting an impressive well of patience and poise, the young woman said bluntly, "You're lucky it was only a dog bite. Their mouths are cleaner than humans'."

Claire stifled a laugh and stole a glance at Owen, whose gaze seemed focused on the floor, avoiding all humans present. He moved mechanically as Hortenzia instructed him and Claire on how to position Victor for the surgery.

"Oh," Hortenzia started, digging back into the tool case and retrieving a small leather strap. "I almost forgot the bite block. It's to prevent him from breaking his teeth." Suddenly, Owen was eager to assume this new responsibility.

"Gag him?" Owen asked rhetorically. "With pleasure." He pulled the strap out of Hortenzia's hand and pushed it between his father's jaws. Wide-eyed, Victor could only weakly grunt at his son, who grinned smugly back. The chieftainess couldn't contain her laughter this time. Then, clearing her throat, Claire reverted to her serious expression as Hortenzia began to suture.

By the time the healer tied off her final knot, sweat glistened on everyone's brows. Claire sighed with relief as Hortenzia wrapped a fresh dressing on the MacWilliam's arm and motioned for her assistants to release their firm hold. Leaning back to wipe her forehead with her remaining sleeve, Claire missed Owen's small, adoring smile in her direction. The moment passed quickly, as the healer cleaned up and directed them both to wash the blood and grime from their exposed skin. Soon after, the trio were moving Victor upstairs. Hortenzia branched off towards the kitchen to steep some willow bark tea for pain and find a Roquefort cheese that she said could ward off infection. This left the other two to deliver the injured man to Claire's bedchamber. Owen begrudgingly laid his father on the familiar mattress. When he had imagined returning to that particular room in the castle, he'd been looking forward to revisiting his first night there with Claire. This was a revolting alternative. Biting his tongue was all he could do to suppress his gag reflex.

As Claire walked over to her armoire to retrieve an intact shirt, Victor motioned for his son to bend down in his direction. "Owen." The old man's voice was weaker and softer than ever before. "She has an unshakable bond with that hound. Don't put it down. They are _both_ Gradys." Owen nodded silently, still afraid of unleashing vitriol upon his father, who added, "I love you." The MacWilliam promptly fell into a deep slumber. Owen was only vaguely aware of Claire tugging him back into the hall, her replacement shirt slung over her shoulder.

Once she shut her bedchamber door, they stood alone in the hallway. Avoiding her eyes, Owen remained quiet and contemplative. Claire pressed herself against him in an effort to soothe his turbulent emotions. His agitated state was apparent in his pervasive muscle tension and racing heartbeat. She felt him slowly relaxing into her embrace. Lulled by his warmth and familiarity, her arousal stirred. She suddenly wished she were anyplace else with Owen but the middle of the hall in Dearing castle. His own desire awakening as she snuggled herself closer, he scolded her gently. "Dammit, witch, this is neither the time nor the place!"

"Don't you want me?" She rubbed teasingly against him, unexpectedly feeling mischievous.

"Claire!" He tried to push her away from him, but that only encouraged her to cling tighter. To both his horror and his delight, her questing hand slipped beneath his doublet and around to caress his buttock. "Claire, you minx, cease your torture or I swear I'll take you right here and now, no matter the consequences!"

"Do you want me, Owen?" she repeated.

"Yes!" he groaned through gritted teeth, and she released him to stand demurely back, laughing softly at his discomfort.

"I want you, too," she said. "For the life of me, I don't know why we don't elope in France and leave our families to Hell!"

"Because, macushla, you are your father's daughter. You accepted the responsibility for your family from him, and you are not a woman to go back on your word." They both knew he was correct and silently walked arm in arm down to the Great Hall.

Karen was nervously pacing while the boys and Maisie played with Dom. The soothing sound of children's laughter echoed throughout the hall as Claire and Owen joined the group. Breaking away from her betrothed, the chieftainess hugged her stepmother.

"Are you alright?" Karen asked, her fingers skimming the tattered fabric at Claire's left shoulder. The younger woman sighed audibly before providing a brief recap of the afternoon's events in a hushed tone. Owen kept the children distracted with Dom's tricks. He caught Karen fleetingly cringing at the dog who was entertaining her sons.

"Anything new to report on your end?" Claire inquired when her story had ended.

"Tanaka told me to tell you that the handwriting on the ransom note matched Henry's journals." Karen shook her head in disgust before adding, "He's gone to see Ewan. I shudder to think if he's betrayed us, too."

"We're lucky to have Tanaka. He's a good man."

"Aye, I'll drink to that!" Both women chuckled relievedly. Looking on her stepdaughter with concern, Karen offered, "I can tell you're weary and frustrated. Use my apartment until I have one of the guest chambers prepared for you. Change out of this shirt and relax before dinner."

Claire kissed Karen lightly on the cheek and answered, "My thanks." With Owen following close behind her, she led the way to her stepmother's rooms. He marveled at the well-appointed space and immediately sat down to remove his boots.

When she'd closed the door - alone again, at long last - and chucked her fresh shirt onto an adjacent chaise, Claire moved across the room to settle herself in Owen's lap. "Kiss me," she demanded, and he was happy to comply, covering her mouth with his in a smoldering possession that left her breathless. "Hmmmmm," she purred at him, slipping a hand around to caress the back of his neck.

"Do you really want to run away?" he asked her as she sent wonderful little shivers down his spine while he moved a hand around to slip into her silk shirt.

"No," she said, nuzzling him just below his ear. His hand cupped her breast, the thumb stretching up to tease at the nipple. "I want this trading company to be fully legitimized," she said with firmly, loving the warmth of his hand as he cupped her. "My father scavenged wrecks, some of which, I am certain, he caused. He preyed upon an occasional fat merchant vessel caught without protection. He was more pirate than I care to admit! I will make this company better for Zachary, Grayson, and all the Dearings yet to come." Claire gently bit on the lobe of Owen's ear, and then blew softly into it.

"And then what?" Owen could feel his desire burgeoning as she nestled provocatively against him, kissing his face and neck with wonderful little nips.

"Then, I shall spend my days being the chatelaine of Grady Castle and my nights being your own personal wanton!" She turned his head with her fingers and kissed him fervidly on the lips. The beast within him leapt forth, crushing her within the iron of his arms, meeting her flaming challenge with a fire of his own that burned hot and fierce. He turned her so that she lay helpless within the enchantment of his embrace, her fair breasts half exposed, their nipples pushing arrogantly forth to taunt him.

With a groan of surrender he buried his face in the softness of her cleavage, "Dammit, Claire, I want you! I cannot get enough of you, and 'tis unkind of you to tempt me so now."

She laughed and wriggled from his arms. Walking across the room, she turned the key in the lock of the door, and with an almost impish grin, she sauntered back across the room to stand before him. Slowly, she drew off her one-sleeved silk shirt and slipped from the half-chemise she wore beneath it, letting them both fall to the floor. Owen expelled his breath in a slow hiss of delight at the wonders she displayed to him so proudly. She slid her legged skirt over her hips, and removed the remaining undergarments and stockings, rolling the latter slowly down her shapely legs. Boldly, she moved forward to face him and began undoing his own silk shirt while, with eager hands, he yanked and pulled at the rest of his clothing, anxious to join her in the natural state. Seating him, Claire removed his pantaloons. He was quickly as nude as she, and put up no resistance when she led him across the room to lie with her on a sheepskin rug before the fire.

They clung together, their bodies touching the length of one another while they kissed, their lips moving softly against each other. He stroked her satiny flesh gently, feeling the desire rise in him as it had the very first time he kissed her. What she had awakened in him that afternoon in the orchard was now more consuming than ever. She hovered over him, her breasts brushing his chest as she twined her fingers in and out of the hairs upon his torso. Her touch incited his passion, and he pulled her against him only to roll her so that she lay underneath him. His lips traveled a tender pathway over her face, pausing at her closed eyelids, her nose, her mouth. He kissed a trail down her neck to the throbbing hollow in her throat, and paused there to feel her blood coursing wildly beneath his lips. He adored her with a mixture of love, amusement and wonder; but he had always respected her intelligence as well. Owen felt profoundly fortunate to have been chosen by her. Claire wasn't a possession to be proud of or to be envied. She was something else entirely. Something rarer and more precious. "How I love you, my fine pirate wench," he whispered against her delicate skin.

"And I love you," came the breathless reply that was immediately followed by a loud gasp as he filled her. It was all pleasure this time, and no pain.

She opened her emerald eyes and took his head in her two hands. Turning him so that their eyes met, she held his gaze as he thrust into her. There were no words spoken, for their beating hearts spoke silently for them. Her eyes grew ever more full of the love she felt for this wonderful man. With tenderness, he moved upon her until finally she could bear the sweetness no longer, and a soft cry welled up and burst from her throat. In that moment, Owen's own heart was so filled with love for Claire that he could barely contain his own passions. He watched her with amazement, seeing all the stormy emotions that played across her beautiful face. Gently, he bent his head to kiss her and taste the salty tears on her cheeks. That she wept from sheer happiness he understood, yet it moved him just the same. When she opened her beautiful emerald eyes again, he smiled softly at her, and she smiled back, dazzling him with the love that shone so clearly in her face.

"How very much I need you," he whispered to her.

"How very much I need _you_ ," she returned, and then as he moved them so that they lay on their sides, she touched his mouth with a delicate kiss. They were still joined in conjugal embrace, but he had wanted to spare her his weight while they loved, for he was not yet ready to spend. In this half-facing position, Claire had one leg between his, and one of Owen's legs was between hers. The intimate entanglement allowed them to stroke and caress each other freely. Owen enjoyed taking her sensitive, erect nipples in his mouth from this posture, and sucking long and worshipfully upon them. Claire moaned with pleasure as small darts of liquid fire raced through her veins, leaving her weak. In an effort to even the score, she ran her hand down his long back to fondle a taut buttock with teasing fingers. Biting his earlobe and then running her tongue around the shell of his ear, she whispered shamelessly to him how he made her feel at this moment. "Oh, my darling, how have I gone so long without you inside me? I cannot get enough of you, Owen. Don't stop! I want this forever!"

Her bold words roused his lust to a furious pitch. He shuddered and ached with the pleasure possessing her gave him. With a smile of triumph, he rolled her onto her back and began thrusting once more into her honeyed warmth. He vaguely felt her nails raking down his back; heard her excited panting, hot in his ear; and felt her body writhing beneath him. Beginning to slip from reality into a transcendent realm of sensual delights, Claire was caught up a whirlwind and lost to everything except their union.

Watching her through half-closed lids, Owen was amused to find her own eyes closed as her nails scored his skin with fine crimson lines and her hips began to thrust back at him. He pushed deeper and deeper into her until Claire thought he could go no further, but the next thrust penetrated deeper still as she threw her legs up and wrapped them around him. She felt helpless beneath his strength, and yet she felt stronger than she ever had. The first wave of ecstasy washed wildly over her, and Owen slowed his movements despite her whimpered protest. He laughed softly, a deep and sensuous sound, "Oh no, not quite yet. You're insatiable, I can see, but I'm of a mind to play with you a bit longer." Again, he increased the tempo of his erotic rhythm until she was sobbing with pleasure. His possession filled her with unbelievable peace amidst the turbulence of their passion. He gave so much, and Claire wanted to give back, but the second wave overtook her, rendering her almost unconscious, and she cried out. To her surprise, he cried out also, and then she felt his seed filling her full, and his head dropped to her breasts. She could barely catch her breath, but she caressed the back of his neck soothingly. Her arms tightened about him as he whimpered with his own pleasure, and she couldn't help but kiss his tousled head.

They lay together for some minutes, attempting to regain their composure. He finally managed to roll off her, and catching her hand in his, they lay silently side by side. Beneath them the thick sheepskin was soft, and the warm fire crackled merrily - the only witness to their coupling. Outside, they could hear the soft roar of the rising wind about the stone tower house. Everything else was silence. Owen spoke first, "I wish we could stay like this all winter."

"So do I," Claire laughed softly, "but I suspect that Karen will want her rooms back this night. I feel almost guilty thinking on how we have spent this afternoon while Hortenzia tends to your father and the servants clean the drawing room and prepare our own chamber."

"If this sheepskin could talk…" he teased.

"Poor Karen would be shocked."

"How long is she to be in mourning?"

Claire scoffed, "Probably the rest of her life. She's always taken better care of her boys than herself."

"You judge people by your own yardstick, Claire," he said with kindness. "Most women are not strong like you. They are meek, gentle creatures who rely upon their men for everything, including their very thoughts."

"We need to find her a new, trustworthy husband who would protect her and the boys. As a widow, she's ripe to be taken advantage of...by someone who'd covet the trading company."

"Someone like my father or de Marisco's flunky."

"Mills," she huffed with a scowl. "I'm sure Adam took care of him. He's more likely at the bottom of Bristol Channel than sharing a cell with Captain Craig."

Wanting to change the subject, Owen pulled her into his side, kissed her forehead and whispered softly, "I want this forever, too...and every day, as you requested after our first night."

"Do you think you can keep me satisfied?" she taunted.

"It will be my life's mission." Tenderly, he caressed her cheek and looked into her eyes. His touch scorched her skin, but the warmth of his gaze filled her with rapture. Just as he moved to kiss her, they heard it: an insistent knocking at the apartment door. With a smothered curse, Owen broke away from her, roaring, "What is it, dammit?!"

Karen's impatient voice broke through their cocoon, "Are you about ready to join us for the meal?"

"You told me to relax!" Claire shouted back.

"Just making sure I get my rooms back tonight." They heard Karen huff loudly before stomping down the hall. After sharing a laugh, Owen brushed Claire's mouth with his very lightly, sending a pleasant tingle through her.

"It's our time now," she reassured him. "Our time, now and always!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to akaJB for pushing me to complete this story and supporting me in a beta role for the last few chapters. Special mention to my consistent commenters: hushedgreylily, Camazotz and Wax. There have been many times over the last several months when I felt like giving up on this one. I hope I brought the main story to a satisfying conclusion for readers.
> 
> Please help keep me motivated by letting me know if you liked it...feedback might encourage me to post the epilogue sooner!


	17. Epilogue - Leanaí

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Owen observed both his wife and their newborn son with wide wonder. Everyone could finally rest after the prolonged labor. The midwife had left them alone, and the servants were keeping Dom in the kitchen due to his worried barking at Claire's exclamations of pain. Now, Claire was lying back comfortably against the pillows with her eyes closed.

"He is perfection," Owen practically cooed as he cradled the swaddled infant in his arms.

"Don't let Deirdre hear you," Claire scolded playfully. "She's liable to be jealous." Her husband just rolled his eyes at her. They both knew how he doted on their precocious, three year old daughter. The Dearing chieftainess sat up in bed, wincing as she did so, and Owen shifted his position to face her. Despite their mutual fatigue, the mixture of calm and elation in her expression warmed her husband's heart. Impossibly, the depth of his love for her continued to increase.

"Stay home now, Claire," he pleaded softly. "No more going out to sea. I want to raise them together now."

She scoffed, "You weren't so insistent that we stay together when we had a _girl_. You only want me to give up the trading company because I gave you a son." Her words had bite and wounded Owen. His brow furrowed as if to contradict her, but he couldn't argue. It was true. Had their eldest child been a boy, he likely would have gone to any lengths necessary to keep Claire at Grady castle full-time. His father would've supported those efforts as well.

Owen swallowed hard and prepared to say his piece, but his wife beat him to it. "I assume you've checked for the Grady birthmark?" She asked with a wink. A mischievous grin split her face. This had been a running joke between them for months, when, after a voyage to Lundy, Owen's long buried jealousy of Adam de Marisco resurfaced. Owen had stopped short of accusing Claire of infidelity, but she gave him an earful all the same. Opening old wounds, she'd reminded him never to doubt her faithfulness. From that point on, he'd been a devoted husband, indulging all her requests while she was pregnant.

Wordlessly, Owen unwrapped the baby's legs to reveal a small mole in the shape of a heart on their son's left hip just atop the bone. Claire crinkled her nose and stifled a laugh as she announced, "Victor will be pleased."

"I looked because I knew he'd ask," Owen retorted. "Not because I had concerns."

"I know, darling." She reached out for his hand and entwined their fingers. "Are my sea days finally done?" Her mouth contorted into a pout that was only partially in jest. She knew this was coming.

"There are four of us now, Claire, and...think of the leverage we'll have over the MacWilliam!"

"Pfft," she sniggered, "he's been wrapped around Deirdre's finger for some time now." Claire had taken Deirdre to sea not long after her birth for short voyages but primarily stayed on Masrannessey to breastfeed her. Owen had stayed with them during that period. By their first visit back to Grady castle, Deirdre was already nine months old and bore a striking resemblance to her grandmother, Charlotte. The sight of the wee lass melted the heart of the old overlord, and Owen had never before witnessed his father acting so sweetly. The MacWilliam's cheery disposition hadn't wavered since that day. Subsequently, their tenants had been loyal, and the Grady lands had prospered.

Sighing heavily, Claire relented, "Deirdre's been loathe to go to sea anyway...now that you're building her a _castle_." The couple shared a warm chuckle, and Owen squeezed his wife's hand adoringly. He _was_ building a beautiful, new tower house in Gyrisfana, where his half-brother - newly installed in the local parish - helped oversee the construction. Claire had been ecstatic when she learned that Vivian filled the old Cruthers keep with gunpowder and blew it to smithereens - taking herself out in the process. As a cripple, Lowery had only survived two winters, and his father, Carlton, followed shortly thereafter, likely succumbing to a broken heart. In her grief, Vivian had gone mad. _Fully_ mad, Claire enjoyed clarifying. When the dust had settled, Owen swooped in to take control of the lands before one of the other neighbors could claim possession. The barony would have additional protection from the church in order to remain in Irish Catholic hands. Victor was immensely smug to acquire Gyrisfana and had already earmarked it for his granddaughter when she came of age.

"What will you do if we have more children?" Claire asked teasingly.

"If?" Owen responded with significant alarm in his voice and face. It caused Claire to burst into a fit of laughter that made Owen to blush.

"What do you take me for?" she choked out as her mirth subsided. "Do you think two children have turned me into a prude?" She crawled forward slightly to kiss him soundly on the lips. Pulling back, she whispered, "I'll not be going back on my promise to be your personal wanton."

"I love you, Claire," he whispered in response. "I want you here, to run the household and fill my bed every night."

"Our bed," she corrected.

"It's only my bed in this castle. You are but a visitor." His voice cracked ever so slightly. His eyes had never looked so forlorn to her.

The last few years had been more difficult for Owen than they had been for Claire. While she remained largely on Masrannessey to run the trading company and teach the boys, Owen split his time between the Grady lands and Masrannessey. Meeting his vassals and becoming a worthy overlord for them took time and effort but had been rewarding. He felt proud to show that the man behind Captain Marauder was greater than the legend and was respected enough to brush aside his "scandals." The ruckus surrounding his invoking _droit du seigneur_ was more than quelled by their marriage. Citizens and church leaders alike looked the other way at Claire's obviously protruding belly on the wedding day. The couple's love story captivated the countryside - a fairy tale or legend, in its own right - giving people hope amidst hard times in Ireland. Anyone who saw Claire and Owen together could plainly see their happiness. In the last year, however, Victor's declining health and the acquisition of Gyrisfana led Owen to spend less and less time on Masrannessey. They had missed each other but felt bound to their obligations.

Claire motioned for Owen to pass her their son. Once the babe was nuzzled against his mother, she snuggled herself tightly into her husband's side. Wrapping his arms around her, Owen inhaled deeply to take in her comforting scent.

"This is our bed," said Claire, conviction in her tone. "It pains me more to be separated from you than it will be to leave the island." Her lips brushed against his as she moved to rest her head against his shoulder. "I just need a bit of time to settle the accounts and ensure that Captains Tanaka and Craig don't lead the boys astray."

It was Owen's turn to scoff, "Good heavens, woman! Zachary is thirteen, a fine sailor, and already regarding Maisie differently. You should be more concerned that your brothers will battle for her affections than their fathers will fail the company." Claire feigned shock but knew he was right. Tanaka had been step-father to Zachary and Grayson for nigh on two years. His loyalty to Simon transferred quite easily to Karen and her boys. The gratitude Karen felt toward Tanaka after the kidnapping had blossomed into an abiding, if not passionate, love.

Captain Craig's dedication to the Dearing family and trading company had not wavered after serving his sentence on Lundy. Upon his return to Masrannessey, he found his daughters flourishing in the castle. Hortenzia's bedside manner and empathy put Henry's to shame and compensated for her inexperience. No one even mentioned Master Wu anymore, although there were whispers that he was in Paris. So committed to the healing arts, she'd refused to marry and showed no interest in any of the men on the island. Claire couldn't argue with Hortenzia's "method," as the young woman's medical skills and confidence had only grown with time. Maisie, likewise, helped Karen with the household and played a fine caretaker to Deirdre, whenever possible. Claire would miss her company, to say nothing of Maisie's intelligence and bold nature that seemed to dazzle the Dearing boys whenever they were not at sea.

"Masrannessey will be in good hands," Claire stated plainly.

"Aye," Owen agreed but clarified, "and largely thanks to you. Simon would be proud."

"I couldn't have done it without your support and understanding." This was not exactly what he wanted to hear, as she still appreciated the tension in his muscles and his seemingly biting his tongue. Moving to plant a kiss on his cheek, she added lovingly, "You are my home. My place is with you." That got him to relax again. He took a deep breath and tightened his arms about her.

Knowing her insecurities and pride all too well, Owen reassured, "The Grady heir will still see your fortitude and grace on land, just as I did."

"Deirdre won't likely even remember our voyages," replied Claire, beginning to sniffle.

"Hush, machushla!" He kissed the top of her head and ran his fingers through her hair. "I love the sea as well. We won't be land-locked for the rest of our lives." They settled into quiet as their son slept contently between them. Owen eventually broke the silence by nodding toward the lad and whispering, "He'll take after you, and not just the red hair. Naming him for your grandfather was the right decision."

"Padraic," Claire almost hummed. "'Tis a strong name for the long-sought Grady heir." Her tone was teasing. "Deirdre has more hair than both her father and brother - too bad that's not how we trace the bloodlines!"

"Witch!" Owen responded in mock horror. "It's being apart from my wife and daughter that's thinned my hair."

Claire chuckled, "Deirdre's given me some grays." She moaned softly into his chest then snuck a glance at the infant. Proud, parental eyes locked before they shared a broad smile.

Owen had never before in his life felt so at peace. He was moved to declare, "We'll all thrive together here." She hummed in agreement then yawned.

Carefully, father took son into his arms and laid the babe in the small cradle next to the bed. After helping Claire get back under the covers and kissing her forehead, Owen blew out the candlestick on the nightstand and settled down beside her for a well-deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has subscribed to, given kudos to, or commented on this story. It’s taken me the longest to finish of any of the multi-chapters I’ve written, so I appreciate everyone who has come along for the ride. I’m going back to canon stories for a while and hope readers will enjoy my return to that :)
> 
> Due to a relative lack of response to my work on AO3, I’m considering no longer posting here. I will continue to post on FanFiction.net, regardless. If you want me to continue posting stories here, “speak now or forever hold your piece.”


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